Regrets Only
by B and M
Summary: College exes Rick and Michonne would love to move on with their lives, but that's proving hard as their friends move on with theirs. Weddings, holidays, christenings, and birthdays keep bring them back together...it's almost as if fate is trying to tell them something. Is their love a thing of the past or the key to their future? Story previously titled Number 21. AU. Romance.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Hi. :) It's been a long time, and while I've been keeping busy working on original material, I've missed you all and Richonne a lot over the past year. An old WIP has been bothering me lately, so I decided to revisit it. This story was formerly known as _Number 21_. I've reworked it and plan to post at least once a week until it's finally done. Hold me to it! Just a warning-this is a second chance romance. Things start angsty, but as with all romance, I promise there is a happily ever after.

**Chapter 1**

**Season Opener**

_August 2001_

They were supposed to be spending their last few hours together before Michonne, his girlfriend of three years, boarded a red-eye to Paris to spend senior year abroad. Rick had it all planned out. He'd ordered in wings and pizza from their favorite dive since she was going to be missing out on an entire football season's worth of tailgating and keg parties. He'd had his Mom whip up her famous red velvet cake since he'd be missing her birthday and Valentine's Day. He'd wrapped up the ratty, grey University of Georgia hoodie she always stole from him with the intent of gifting it to her once and for all so that she'd have a piece of him with her. It was nothing fancy, but that wasn't really how they did things. Honestly, all he wanted was to spend their last few hours wrapped around her in bed to make up for the lonely nights ahead of him.

Instead Rick sat on the edge of his bed watching his ex of three hours sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bedroom floor, surrounded by the CD's they had amassed together, divvying them up as if she was dealing out a deck of cards.

Yes, his _ex_-girlfriend.

"Hootie and the Blowfish." Michonne snickered quietly like she always did where that band was concerned as she dropped that CD in his pile like it was a dirty sock or something.

She had always teased him about his taste in music, but he had never claimed to be cool, and he knew that wasn't why she was with him anyway because she'd told him as much the night they met at a party their freshman year. They first locked eyes over some poor girl as she vomited corn chips and hunch punch all over the genuine leather cowboy boots his parents had bought him for high school graduation.

When he stepped out of the puddle of pink and slipped one arm under the pukee's arm, Michonne smiled shyly and did the same, then they took the girl to the bathroom where her friends swiftly, well as swiftly as humanly possible when three sheets to the wind in three inch heels, took over and swept her into the tiny blue-tiled room. When the door shut, Michonne smiled again and told him he was very kind...and _cute_. His cheeks went hot and his whole life was pretty much made at that moment.

She helped him clean up and they spent the rest of the night hanging out, instantly bonded after their heroic act. When she was about to leave, she slipped him her number and they went out to dinner the next night. He couldn't believe that simply being kind and decent was enough to attract a woman like Michonne, but somehow it was.

Too bad it wasn't enough to keep her, though...

"Lauryn Hill for me," she whispered to herself as she put that one in the cardboard box beside her.

How she made those decisions so easily, he had no idea. What was his and hers wasn't nearly as clear to him anymore.

That Lauryn Hill CD had been released the summer they started dating. He heard it everywhere they went; on the radio while they were driving around in his truck, at parties, playing on MTV in the background while he was waiting for her to get ready at her apartment. At some point, _Can't Take My Eyes Off You_ had become their song, and, sure, it was probably every couple's song at that point in time, but it was still _theirs_.

He'd switch to it when they were driving in his truck together, they'd dance to it in his living room on the nights they were lucky enough to have his apartment to themselves, and make out with it playing in the background, just as it had been the very first time they did that on his couch one autumn night during their freshman year.

So how she did this? Yeah, he didn't understand. But there was a lot he didn't understand about her right now, so he just sat there in a daze because it hurt too much to really think about it.

Foo Fighters, him. Tim McGraw, him. Outkast, her. Nelly Furtado, her. Aaliyah, her. Dave Matthews Band, _him_?

"I think that's yours actually," he interrupted quietly.

She looked up, her hand pausing in mid-air just as she was about to add it to his pile.

"But I only bought it because we were going to that concert with your friends and I didn't know any of their stuff," she explained.

Yeah, that concert where it had rained all day, turning their lawn seats into a mud pit. They had considered bailing because they didn't care for the band enough to deal with that mess, but at Maggie and Glenn's insistence, then his friends and now hers, they stayed. The flasks of cheap vodka they had snuck in and the magic mushrooms courtesy of the friendly granola crew the next blanket over hadn't hurt either.

By the end of that night, they were covered in mud, flat on their backs, laughing and making out under the stars as if nothing else existed around them. Yes, they were those people. He had never had that much fun in his life before, and assumed he probably never would again.

"So you?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Sure."

She gave him a quick smile, and wasted no time ridding herself of the CD so that she could move onto the next one.

"Sade for me." She quickly dropped that in her box then paused as she picked up the next one. Her face softened and she audibly sighed as she turned it around to show him. "Coldplay."

While it was heartening to see that she wasn't completely devoid of emotion, he found himself bottoming out at this point. He didn't dare start to unpack the late night memories associated with that one.

"You take it."

She frowned slightly. "No, you can have it," she decided, as if it was charity.

And that's when he decided he had had enough. He pushed himself off of the bed and stepped around her and the mess she had created, then headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Just take whatever you want," he called out without turning or stopping. "Or don't. I don't care."

He walked down the hall and through his living room on his way to the kitchen where he opened the fridge door and rifled through the various bottles and cans on the bottom shelf, a collection of random leftovers from past parties, before deciding on a PBR. He cracked open the silver can and chugged at least a third of it before closing the door and turning around to find that she had followed him.

"Rick."

She was standing there in a cropped purple tank top and pair of low rise jeans that hugged her thighs then flared at the bottom. Her brown hair was gathered high atop her head and her hands were planted on the soft curve of her hips. She was just staring at him with her big brown eyes, looking like she was the one who was disappointed, like _she_ was the one who deserved some answers.

He shook his head and dropped his hands to his sides.

"Michonne, what more do you want from me?"

She stepped back and frowned slightly, chastened by his response.

"I wanted to spend my last night in town with you," she said earnestly, which honestly just pissed him off at this point.

He took another sip of his beer and stepped in closer to her, getting right into her personal space so that she would have no choice but to look him right in the eye if she was going to continue saying things like that.

"Well, here we are. What a blast."

She nodded, allowing that she probably deserved at least a little, if not all of the attitude he was throwing her way.

"I want you to be OK with this."

He cocked his head to one side in disbelief. "That's askin' a lot."

She reached down and placed her hand on his wrist. "Rick, it's not you—"

"Yeah, I know."

But there she went trying to explain it to him for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past forty-eight hours since she'd laid this on him.

"I'm going to be spending senior year abroad, then we graduate, and then who knows what happens after that. It doesn't make sense to stay together."

He felt his eyes begin to sting with tears, for what also seemed like the hundredth time tonight. "It doesn't make sense not to try at least," he argued.

And she stood there, unmoved by his tears and emotional pleas to change her mind, to at least give them a chance.

"This is a pivotal time for both of us," she explained. "We should be figuring out what we want for our lives. I wouldn't want to hold you back from that."

He wasn't sure exactly when he had lost the ability to move her, but he had. He averted his gaze to the floor for a moment, finding himself unable to look her in the eye any longer.

"You don't hold me back," he eked out quietly, "...but I certainly don't want to hold you back."

"Rick."

He felt her hand on his cheek then a gentle pull to lift his face, but he resisted and shook his head. "I know you want me to be OK with this right now, but I'm not. I'm sorry."

She brought her free hand up and placed it on his other cheek. "We can still write," she pointed out hopefully, "and Instant Message…"

They weren't friends before they started dating, so he didn't see how they could be friends after the fact, just turn off all of those feelings like that. What was the point of this separation then? In his mind, he would still be writing his girlfriend because nothing would have changed for him at all.

And he couldn't do that, so he just shook his head again.

"You're killin' me here, Michonne."

Since he wouldn't lift his head to look at her, she bent at the knee to meet him where he was. And when she looked into his eyes, red-rimmed and filled with tears, she began to blink back her own.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I loved you," he stuttered, as he began to break down.

And that's when she finally broke.

She wrapped her arms around him, trying to stay strong for both of them, but they sank down to the kitchen floor together under the weight of his body and their sadness.

* * *

Listening to sad songs is the absolute worst thing to do when sad because sadness only begets deeper sadness, like a black hole of grief. Michonne knew this, yet she couldn't stop herself throughout the entire redeye flight from Atlanta to Paris, the taxi ride from Charles de Gaulle to Montparnasse, and the short walk from the curb to her flat. She only took a short break to meet her flatmate before closing her bedroom door and starting again for the next few hours.

"Michonne?"

She slipped her headphones off her head and sat up in bed, tossing aside the pillow she had been curled up around, then furiously wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. She took three deep breaths and adjusted her tank top.

"Yeah. Come in."

Her new flatmate, Anne, a studio art major, opened the door and peeked her head around before entering. She was a tall, thin beauty who looked like she had stepped out of an alternative rock video with her bleached out blunt bob and bangs, powdered pale skin, dark eyeliner, red lips, black jeans, and a shrunken vintage tee.

"Are you OK?" she asked upon seeing her face, no doubt puffy and streaked with dried, salty tears.

Michonne nodded as she lost it, bursting into tears again.

"Oh babe." She rushed to her side with outstretched arms. "Come here."

Anne wrapped her arms around her, and despite not being a big hugger, she accepted her comfort and rested her head against her shoulder given she was literally the only person she knew in this country, so she supposed that made them friends now.

"You homesick?" Anne asked.

She shook her head _no_. She wished it was that simple.

"Boyfriend?"

Michonne lifted her head and pulled away from her embrace. "We broke up yesterday...or the day before..." She sighed and brought her fingers to her throbbing head, confused as to what time or day is was thanks to the time change and her current state. "Right before I left."

"I'm so sorry."

"No, it's OK," Michonne assured her, feeling guilty for accepting any kind of comfort. "I mean, _I_ did it...I just didn't realize how hard it would be."

"Oh," Anne mouthed, looking surprised to hear that was the case given the state of distress she found her in. "Why'd you do it then?"

_My mom_ she wanted to say, but decided to spare her new friend from _that_ drama.

"Because I was leaving. Because I'm supposed to be focusing on myself and my future instead of a relationship right now? Because..._I shouldn't let my world get so small yet_," she explained, her mother's words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

Despite saying it with such conviction so many times to Rick, she found that conviction wavering in the wake of this unexpected and all consuming heartbreak. Her world felt smaller than ever now; _she_ felt small than ever.

"So he wasn't an asshole?"

"No," she huffed out regrettably. "Far from it."

"Well, that always makes it harder. You can't exactly go party your ass off to get back at him."

Michonne managed to find some humor in her dry observation and a small laugh escaped her mouth. She had absolutely no right or desire to do anything of the sort.

"Well..." Anne sighed and flicked a wadded tissue off the bed onto the floor. "You're here, and you came for a reason."

Michonne nodded in agreement.

"And it's our first night in Paris, and we should celebrate that. Even if we just go to that cafe down the street and split a bottle of wine…" She grinned and arched her thin, penciled-in eyebrow playfully. "And if that goes down easy then we'll order another and before you know it, we'll be having fun and dancing to really bad Europop with really cute French guys at the discotheque."

Anne had managed to make her crack a small smile, but shook her head. "Maybe tomorrow."

"No. Tonight," she insisted. "I know it's the last thing you want to do, and I know it's not really going to make things magically better, but you have to start somewhere. Just take little breaks from your sadness and pretend like you have no troubles, and eventually time does what it does, until one day you're not pretending anymore, you're just better."

"I—"

"We'll start at the cafe. If you're not feeling it, we can come home."

It all sounded a little too good to be true, but her head knew that she couldn't sit in this room forever even if her heart was weighing her down like an anchor. Her head also knew she probably couldn't listen to one more Sarah McLachlan song tonight, possibly ever, because it would forever be tainted with sadness and the soundtrack of this god awful time in her life.

"OK," she said finally.

Anne smiled and stood from the bed. "Good. Now throw on some heels and lipstick, and meet me downstairs in five."

Michonne remained planted on the bed and found her focus drifting to the phone on her nightstand. What she wanted to do was pick it up, dial Rick's number, and call off the break-up. She could almost feel her heart mending and mood lifting just thinking about it. It would be so easy...but that was the point her mother had made when she uncharacteristically wandered into her room the other day to offer help her pack.

Mrs. Reeves was considered cool among Michonne's friends because she never really cared what they did. Stayed out past curfew? No big deal. Got a bad grade? Shrug. It may have seemed like a blessing in the setting of youthful indiscretions, but her mother's coolness extended to the positive things, too. MVP of the volleyball team? Sure. Valedictorian? Expected. So when her mother became tearful while warning against settling down too young, how could Michonne not heed her words?

She dug a calling card out of her purse, picked up the phone and checked her watch, still on Atlanta time, which read two-forty p.m., so her mother would be awake and hopefully able to provide a little encouragement. She dialed the number, and listened to the phone ring and ring and ring until the robotic voicemail message played.

* * *

Rick could see Denise's wavy blonde hair and bespectacled green eyes peeking through the small, curtained window of his front door from his spot on the couch. The lights were off, so he was hoping she couldn't see him, but his stereo was blaring, so that might just blow his cover. Regardless, he chose to remain silent and take his chances.

She knocked lightly. "Rick?"

No such luck. Denise was like a sister which was why she had a strange familial sixth sense when it came to him. They had grown up on neighboring farms just outside of Augusta, Georgia. Their parents were close, and both being only children around the same age, they became close, too. They were in the same class from kindergarten on up, partnered together and dominated many a Four-H Hippology contests throughout their teen years, and ended up at going away to the University of Georgia together where it was only natural that they would be neighbors again.

She didn't bother to wait for his response, and instead opened the unlocked door and walked down the hallway into the living room. She put her hands on her hips and looked around the room for a moment.

"What in emo hell is going on here?" she mumbled to herself.

He got it. The darkness, the smell of body odor and stagnant air, the moody music, his slovenly figure sprawled out on the couch wearing nothing but a pair of khaki shorts. All that was missing was a dark smudge of eyeliner around his eyes.

She shook her head at his pathetic show and purposely put on a cheerful front despite it. "Well, howdy neighbor," she greeted as she walked up to the couch. "You didn't come out to the football game like you said you would."

"Didn't feel like it," he grunted back.

"Well, we beat Georgia Southern today. Go Dawgs!" she said with the requisite fist pump.

"Go Dawgs," he said back, too apathetic for a fist pump.

"OK." She blew out a breath that puffed her bangs up and rocked back on her feet. "Hey, why don't you come on over now? Everybody's at my place and we're gonna order some pizza and kill the keg from the tailgate party."

"Maybe."

She gave him a look, then bent and pushed his limp leg aside to make room to take a seat on the edge of the couch. She pulled the empty beer can he had stuffed between the couch cushions and placed it on the coffee table next to the others then picked up the CD case lying next to them and scoffed.

"Have you really been laying here in the dark drinking and listening to Dave Matthews Band all day?"

"Maybe."

She dropped the case back on the table with disgust then reached for the remote to turn the volume down on the stereo system.

"Well, this is the most frat-tastic pity party I've ever seen in my life," she declared. "Get up."

"Denise," he groaned.

"Rick, I get it," she promised. "You don't want to. There is _definitely_ a time and place for laying around listening to sad music and feeling sorry for yourself...although there are way better songs to do it to," she said out of the side of her mouth before leaning in closer like she was sharing a secret. "I've got this break-up mix I put together with songs I downloaded from Napster, I mean, it's basically like a Lilith Fair mix, but the first one is like Sarah McLachlan, Jewel, Fiona Apple, like real cry your eyes out stuff, and then the second one is like Alanis, Hole, Fiona again, like real make you want to punch a wall and set something on fire kind of stuff." She stopped herself and shook her head. "I mean, not that I'm choosing sides and saying that you have a right to be angry at Michonne, but feelings are feelings, you know? Anyway, I can burn you a copy if you want."

He stared back at her blankly causing her to sigh with frustration as she tried to think of some kind of way to cheer her friend up.

"Or...you can always come over for a little, uh, chemically induced good mood."

His brow raised slightly. He wouldn't object to numbing this pain for the night, but his brow quickly fell as his lips settled into a frown as he remembered his career plans.

"Can't. No drug use within three years of applying for the FBI."

"Well shit," she muttered. "Look, just come over, even if it's only for a refill on your beer," she pled. "It's just me, Tara, Eugene, Rosita, Glenn, and Maggie. All friends! You don't even need to get dressed up."

"Fine."

He slowly peeled himself off the couch, stopping for a big yawn and a stretch before he began to shuffle out of the room. Heartened by his progress, Denise stood, as well, and smiled then began to follow him down the hall.

"There we go," she cheered from behind. "Splash a little water on your face, finish getting dressed...maybe a dab of cologne," she added quietly.

He turned and quirked an eyebrow. "You tryin' to tell me I stink?"

She shrugged and he kept on walking right on past his bedroom in the direction of the front door.

"OK...or, yeah, I mean it's real casual at my place," she stammered, "so, sure you could go like that, too…"

Once they reached the small foyer, he gave her a wry smile before he bent down to pick up a grey t-shirt that was balled up in the corner and covering a pair of sandals. She breathed a sigh of relief as he clothed himself then pulled his keys out of his pocket and opened the door for her. They made the short walk across the hall where she returned the favor and opened the door to the apartment she shared with Tara and Eugene.

"Hey everybody! Look who's here!" she announced…to no one.

The Florida-Ball State game was muted on the TV and Weezer, a sure sign that Eugene was playing DJ tonight, was pumping through the stereo at full blast in the empty living room.

She sighed and motioned for Rick to follow her, assuming everyone must be out back gathered around the keg, but he slowed and doubled back, when he caught some activity in the room she shared with Tara out of the corner of his eye.

"How do you say 'Go Dawgs' in French?"

Rick couldn't see her behind Tara and Rosita who were hovering over the computer, but that was definitely Maggie's voice. They all went quiet awaiting the answer to her question.

_Bing_

"Allez Chiens," Maggie reported.

"Allez Chiens!" they cheered.

"What time is it there?" Tara asked, her voice followed by furious typing.

_Bing_

"2:30 AM?!" Maggie exclaimed.

"Girl, what are you still doing up?" Rosita asked.

"Rosita wants to know what you're still doing up," Maggie said as she typed.

_Bing_

"I just got home. Went to a discotheque with my flatmate tonight," Maggie reported.

"Oh la la," Rosita cooed. "That sounds fancy."

Denise had returned to his side, and judging by the look on her face, she must have realized realized what he already had: they were all gathered around the computer IM'ing Michonne. She grabbed his arm and suggested that they go join the guys out on the patio.

_Bing_

"Drank too much wine and danced with hot French guys all night long," Maggie exclaimed before gasping and popping up out of her chair.

That stopped him dead in his tracks, though.

"Wait, what?" Tara squealed.

"Oh my-" Rosita's hands flew over her mouth, too scandalized to even finish her thought.

"Guys!" Denise yelled. "Rick's here."

The three ladies turned to see him standing there behind them looking down and out, likely the most pathetic they'd ever seen him before because that's how he felt. Here he was crying his eyes out over her and she was off having fun. With French guys. Hot ones, no less.

_Bing_

_Bing_

"Rick You made it!" Tara greeted, ignoring the incoming messages, and probably hoping he would, as well.

Rosita stood there with her hands over her mouth.

"We were just…" Maggie trailed off and shook her head regrettably. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I'm gonna-" He nodded towards the door and began to backpedal in that direction.

"Rick, wait," Denise pled.

"Not tonight."

"I can bring you some pizza once it gets here. Those CD's, too," she offered helplessly.

He nodded, mustering a rueful grin for her sake. He was truly appreciative of all of her effort tonight, but he just didn't have it in him tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Graduation**

_May 2002_

"Excuse me, sorry, thank you. Excuse me, thank you, sorry."

Michonne sidestepped through the narrow space between her fellow graduates legs and the row of folding chairs in front of them, making her way toward the empty chair smack in the middle, of course, before finally taking her seat between two strangers she'd never met in her life with a loud sigh.

The bright lights of the stadium; the hot, humid air prickling her skin and causing her polyester gown to cling to her bare arms; the three gold cords swinging and tangling around her neck; the sound of dozens of different conversations going on around her and warring for attention in her head...

It was enough to cause an anxiety attack in even the most laid back person. But that wasn't her, especially not today. She was already on edge, so all of this was threatening to send her right over said edge. The reason being.._.he_ was here, somewhere in this stadium, and no longer a comfortable four thousand miles and one ocean away as he had been for the last nine months.

She wiped her brow with the back of her hand then began to fan herself with her hand as she uncrossed and recrossed her legs. This was not how she imagined her graduation day when she started this journey four years ago. She imagined a college graduate, particularly herself, would be a bona fide adult come graduation day; skilled, self-assured, and ready to seamlessly transition into the storied "real world" she had been preparing for since her youth. The only thing she was confident of today, however, was that she either had not arrived yet, or just missed that train all together.

"Reeves."

The sound of her last name pulled her focus outward as she looked all around her to find its source. One row back and four seats to the right, she found Glenn Rhee, her good friend and arguably sweetest man in the world, perched on the edge of his seat smiling at her. She reached out and grasped his outstretched hand in lieu of a hug.

"Oh my God, hey!"

"Hey! I've been trying to get your attention for the last few minutes," he laughed.

She shook her head sadly, as she would have welcomed the distraction. "Sorry, I'm so jetlagged I don't even know my own name right now."

"You made it, though," he pointed out, ever the optimist.

"Barely," she admitted with a weak smile. "My flight got in really late last night and then we were up early to drive in from Atlanta early this morning."

"Well, I'm glad you're back. You coming out to the Greenes' for the party afterwards?"

"Yeah...of course," she nodded. While she should have been excited to reunite with her friends and celebrate their final days together, it had become a source of anxiety for her over the past week as it drew closer. "Everyone's going to be there?"

"As far as I know."

"Denise and Tara?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Rosita? Eugene?"

An odd smile crept onto his lips as he realized she was going to make him confirm the entire guest list. "Yep and yep."

"Rick?" she asked casually, though just saying his name out loud for the first time in months made her chest tighten.

"Yeah. He'll be there," he informed her gently.

"Cool." She gave a tight smile in response. "Looking forward to it. "

Sweet Glenn reached out to squeeze her forearm then slid back into his seat as the first speakers came on stage to start the ceremony. Michonne turned and clasped her hands in her lap. This was really happening.

Big state school graduations were more an exercise in patience than a celebration. Out of the thousands of people in attendance, only a dozen, or maybe two or three dozen if you were so popular, were actually there for you. If you didn't walk, nobody would even notice your absence. In fact, they would probably be grateful that it was one less name to call in an interminable list.

With every name, the half of the crowd that was paying any attention at all would clap politely, and then there would be an outburst of hooting and hollering from that graduate's cluster of people. The rowdier families even rang cowbells or shot off air horns despite being explicitly asked not to at the start of the ceremony which earned them disapproving looks from the rule-abiding, and admittedly humorless, people like her parents.

And so Michonne watched and clapped, and then joined forces with Glenn to proudly stand and cheer for Chambler, Cloyd, Espinosa, and Greene when their names were called.

And then there was Grimes…

She finally spotted him when his row lined along side the stage in preparation of their names being called. He looked good. Great, actually, compared to the last time she had seen him. Clean shaven, hair closely shorn to his head, a light tan probably from spring weekends spent fishing at the lake with his father. He stood tall with perfect posture and his hands clasped in front of him, already looking like a cadet in training. Most notable, though, was the single honor cord draped around his neck. She couldn't help but smile. He had done it. Despite his less than stellar academic start freshman year, he had fought hard to earn the _Cum Laude _designation, most of those hours spent hitting the books by her side in the farthest corners of the school library.

So when they called his name, she stood just as she had done for the rest of her friends and clapped. The cheering from the stands was loud, louder than she would have expected from his small, but loving family.

He gave the dean a firm handshake, accepted his diploma and posed for a quick picture before moving across the stage. Another outburst of yells erupted from that side of the stadium, capturing his attention and causing him to chuckle and shake his head as he waved in their direction.

She followed his gaze to see a handful of women standing for him with a pretty blonde in the middle, cheering enthusiastically with both hands raised above her head. Her own clapping slowed as she sank back into her seat, watching Rick continue to engage the woman, even if he was eschewing the attention and motioning for her to sit down as he made his way back to his seat.

For the long stretch of time between the H's and R's, she actively tried not to think about it, not to look in either of their directions. She just kept her focus on the stage, clapping mindlessly as she awaited her turn.

And when it was, she mustered up a smile and confidently walk towards the dean for her own handshake, diploma, and picture. She couldn't make out her own parents in the stands, but she couldn't miss her friends. She smiled and waved at Tara, Denise, Rosita, and Maggie who was standing up for her and cheering wildly from the front section of the floor. Emboldened by their support, she allowed her eyes to drift just behind Maggie to Rick. He was sitting in his chair, stone-faced, and clapping indifferently as if she was just another graduate.

She wished she had never looked.

* * *

Michonne stood by herself in the middle of the grand wraparound porch of the Greene family home, the last to arrive as evidenced by all of the familiar cars parked along the wood fence that surrounded their property. She took a deep breath as she approached the door, hearing muffled music and laughing from behind it. Never in her life had she wanted to be somewhere else more than now, but she was obligated to make an appearance, so she made a deal with herself. She would at least come out to say hello to everyone, and if it was as awful as she feared it would be, she was free to leave citing jetlag and exhaustion as her excuse.

She opened the door to her home away from home as the Greene's had anointed it for all of Maggie's friends given they were locals in the college town, and walked into the grand foyer. Just off the entrance was the formal dining room which is where all of the parents and extended family seemed to be gathered.

"Michonne!" Dr. Greene exclaimed as soon as he saw her standing there in the foyer. "It's our world traveler," he announced to the room.

He and Mrs. Greene rounded the table to welcome her back to the States and into their home for the first time in almost a year. He hugged her first allowing his wife a moment to sit back and assess her graduation fashion.

"Look at you," she cooed as she wrapped her arms around her. "So beautiful."

Michonne smiled back then looked down, feeling embarrassed by and undeserving of the compliment, but also nervous about the next parent that was lining up to greet her.

She looked up and hesitantly made eye contact with Mrs. Grimes, unsure of what her son had told her and whether her previously warm regard for her had cooled as a result. His mother tilted her head as she looked at her, such a Grimes thing to do, then grinned.

"Hi honey," she said softly, warmly, as she opened her arms.

"Hi, Mrs. Grimes," Michonne choked out, finding herself overcome with emotion and relief by her acceptance.

She stepped into her embrace, thankful that she couldn't see the tears welling in her eyes.

"Congratulations," she whispered as she squeezed her tighter.

"Thank you."

Mrs. Grimes stepped back but kept her hands braced on her upper arms, a comforting, motherly gesture that she was grateful for in the moment.

"Where are you parents?"

That was a good question. They had been acting stranger than usual since she'd gotten home. Quiet, tense, barely looking at each other over family breakfast that morning. She wouldn't be shocked at all if they were both blank face in the family photo she'd asked a stranger to take after the ceremony. "Dad got called into the hospital," she said of her father who was a prominent neurosurgeon in Atlanta, and no stranger to poorly timed patient emergencies.

"And what about your mother?"

"Uh…" That wasn't quite as clear to her after the vague excuse she had received in the stadium parking lot after graduation when she had asked her mother why she was bailing on her and the party, as well. "She's not feeling well. It's been a really long day for all of us."

"Well that's too bad. Please tell them we say hello," Mrs. Grimes said as she motioned toward her husband who was still seated at the table and engaged in a chat with the Rhees.

"Of course," she nodded.

"The kids are all in the living room," Mrs. Greene informed her from over over Mrs. Grimes's shoulder.

"Yes, food's set up in the kitchen. Nothing fancy like what you're used to, I'm sure," Dr. Greene explained. "We've got some smoked turkey, greens, mac and cheese, and sweet potatas." She smiled at the way he always dropped the _O _for another _A _at the end of that word. "And then there's some peach cobbler and Hummingbird cake for dessert later."

"I can't wait. I've missed this stuff."

"You look it," he agreed, acknowledging her noticeably thinner frame. "Now go make yourself a plate. Don't be shy."

She nodded and gave The Greenes and Mrs. Grimes a parting grin as she backed out of the room and headed down the hall to the kitchen where a grand buffet of some of her favorite foods was set up on the large island in the middle of the kitchen. She grabbed a plate and inhaled the familiar smells as she took a lap around the spread trying to figure out where to start.

As much she could use some comfort food right about now, she had no appetite. Instead, the sound of her friends laughing the next room over was calling, so she set the plate on top of the stack it came from and wandered to the other side of the kitchen that opened up into the large living room where they were all gathered.

Eugene and Rosita were sitting on chairs borrowed from the kitchen table. Glenn sat in a floral armchair while Maggie sat on the matching ottoman. Denise and Tara were cozied up on one end of the couch while Rick and the blonde girl from graduation were on the other end. He had his arm resting on the back of the couch and she was leaned against him with her legs crossed and angled towards his.

It would be impossible to count how many times she had hung out with this exact group in this exact room. Nothing had changed over the past several months, they just kept right on with their lives, and filled the empty space she had left with someone new. She began to back away, deciding that she didn't have it in her to face this today, but it was too late.

"Michonne!"

Maggie popped up from her seat and ran over to greet her a big hug while the others caught on and called out greetings from their seats.

"I'll go grab you a chair," Maggie offered as she pulled out of her embrace.

"Oh, we can make space," the blonde offered from her cozy spot on the couch.

Both Maggie and Michonne looked at her, and Michonne did her best to keep a neutral expression. This chick was either oblivious to who she was or was very aware and trying to start something. Either way, she wasn't in the mood to play this game.

Michonne gave tight smile. "It's OK, thanks."

"Did you eat?" Maggie asked, grabbing her hand and beginning to tug on it. "Let's make you a plate."

She followed Maggie back to the kitchen where she went straight to the island and busied herself making a plate while Michonne stood there staring at her in disbelief.

"Oh my God, I've missed you so much." Maggie plopped a pile of sweet potato casserole on the plate. "I can't wait to catch up!"

"Maggie," Michonne whispered harshly to get her attention as she stepped in closer. "Who is that?"

Maggie sighed and looked out toward the room then up at her friend just as Rosita quietly wandered into the kitchen with her arms folded across her chest.

"Her name is Jessie," Maggie whispered back.

"Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have come if I had known."

"I had no idea she was coming until she showed up at the door with him," Maggie defended. "I would have called to warn you, but your cell phone is still out of service."

Michonne put her hands on her hips then closed her eyes and took in a deep breath to collect herself.

"Come on," Rosita said as she stepped up, linked her arm with hers and tugged. "You wanna take a walk?"

"Yeah," Michonne breathed out.

They walked toward the side door and exited the kitchen. Once they were out on the side of the porch, Rosita dropped her hold on Michonne and turned to her.

"Figured you could use a straight shooter right now," she explained.

"Yeah," Michonne huffed. She dug through the small quilted black leather purse still hanging from her shoulder and pulled out a half pack of Gauloises cigarettes. She took one for herself then held the box out for her friend. "Smoke?"

"Sure."

She plucked one from the pack before Michonne slid it back into her purse and took and exchanged it for a lighter. They walked down off the porch before she lit hers then held out the lighter for Rosita to light her own. She took a long drag, and so did Rosita who then coughed slightly, not accustomed to the unfiltered variety. They strolled out into the wide open farmland together, getting several feet away from the house before Michonne finally spoke.

"I get why nobody warned me today, but why not before?"

"It _just _happened," Rosita explained honestly. "She only started showing up to places with him over the last few weeks. I didn't realize it was serious enough that he would bring her to a graduation party with his family," she scoffed.

"Is it?" Michonne asked. "Serious?"

"I honestly don't know. They don't tell me much since I'm Team Michonne." She pounded her fist to her heart. "For life."

Michonne choked out a small laugh along with a puff of smoke, but her her lips settled back into a frown after she exhaled.

"For what it's worth, I don't think anybody is being shitty on purpose," Rosita defended in the presence of her displeasure. "Except maybe blondie with that little move on the couch...sorry, I know that's judgey, but like, she _has _to know who you are."

"No," Michonne laughed. "Same thing ran through my mind."

"Rick only started showing his face again a few weeks ago, so I think it's only natural that Maggie and Glenn may be more protective of him. They've also known him longer, plus they've been together since high school, so I don't think they really _get_ how a break up works, you know?"

Michonne had met Rosita in their Spanish Conversation and Composition class Freshman year. Michonne was an International Affairs and Biology double major with a double minor in Spanish and French, while Rosita was a Linguistics major. They became study partners and a friendship grew from that, making her Michonne's friend first and foremost, however, she was a straight shooter as advertised which meant that she would present the truth from all sides. And while it was tough to hear sometimes, it was a much needed reality check.

"Do they blame me?" she asked quietly.

"No, not that I've ever heard them say. All I'm saying is that we're all in a tough spot, trying to be good friends to both of you."

"I know," she assured her as they walked along. "That's why I never really asked you anything. Believe me, it's not that I didn't care."

"I know, and you're stronger than I would have been. I would have been hitting you up everyday, twice a day, like _Girl, tell me everything_," Rosita laughed causing Michonne to crack a smile.

"You _could_ tell me everything…" Michonne informed her with a playful waggle of her brow before shaking her head at herself for what a bad idea that might be. "Well, maybe one thing."

Rosita put her hands on her hips and sucked in a deep breath, as if weighing her own responsibility to her friend. Tell all or protect at all costs.

"Sure," she decided. "Whatever you need."

Michonne grinned appreciatively then went quiet for a moment, thinking of what she wanted to know most out of the hundreds of questions she had.

"Did he ever ask about me?"

Rosita bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head ruefully. "If you would have seen him, though," she offered, "it was painfully obvious that he was thinking about you...I'm sorry," she added given her friend's clear disappointment.

"No, no need to be."

"Has anyone told you how fucking amazing you look, by the way? Because you do," Rosita declared, changing the subject.

"Thanks," she huffed out drily.

Michonne looked down at the form fitting white dress she'd picked up at a boutique in Paris and the espadrille wedges she found at a market in Barcelona one weekend. She'd spent two semesters in Europe and all she had to show for were some cute clothes, a more refined palate, modestly improved French and Spanish, and a nasty smoking habit she swore she would drop once she touched down in the US...though she would have to try again tomorrow.

She had no job, no concrete plans for grad school, no boyfriend. All in all, she had gained nothing from this supposed life-changing opportunity and felt like she had lost everything that mattered to her.

"This whole black eyeliner and red lip situation is fierce," Rosita continued, gesturing toward her face. "You really expect me to believe you didn't have guys falling all over you when you come back looking like this?"

"I didn't say that," Michonne clarified demurely. "I said I didn't partake."

"Bullshit," Rosita scoffed. "With all _le discotheque_-ing you did?"

"If you mean drinking alone in the corner of the club and having drunken crying jags in the bathroom, sure...well, I guess there was one, though."

"I knew it."

"A guy from Sweden kissed me at midnight at a New Year's party. No tongue, no hands. Nothing else."

"Ooh," Rosita teased, as if that even counted at all.

"I told you, I wasn't there for that," she defended.

Rosita took another puff from her dwindling cigarette and turned her head to blow the smoke out and away from them then took a long look at her friend.

"Were you holding out for Rick?" she asked finally.

Michonne looked down at the ground and shrugged as she nervously flicked the butt of her cigarette with her thumb.

"Do you want to get back together with him?"

She looked up at her friend. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "I doubt he would even want to...and he's taken anyway," she said with a nod toward the house and a slight roll of her eyes.

"Well, I wouldn't let Tri-Delt Barbie stand in your way," her friend sneered.

"Rosita," Michonne gasped despite laughing at the jab.

"What?" She asked innocently, though her mischievous grin was anything but.

"I can't really blame her for going after a single guy like Rick."

"But I can," she shot back. "Did you see the scene she made cheering for him today? She brought half the damn sorority with her."

Michonne bit down on her lip, trying not to judge, though she had certainly noticed that herself. Once Rosita got that pettiness out of her system, she went quiet before getting serious again with her friend.

"Do you still love him?"

"Yeah, I do," she answered without hesitation. "Turns out, nothing changed for me."

With this break-up, she had learned the hard way that you can't just turn off feelings because you think you should or need to. She had also learned that while there was a big wide world of potential romantic partners out there, everyone that she encountered so far paled in comparison to her ex-boyfriend.

"Wouldn't hurt to talk to him then…" Rosita suggested.

"Yeah...maybe."

"Hey! We're gonna cut the cake in a few minutes!"

They both looked up to see Maggie calling for them from the front porch, and swiftly hid their cigarettes behind their backs and out of her sight for fear of judgment as if she was Mrs. Greene herself.

"OK! We'll be right up," Rosita shouted back.

Maggie smiled and gave them a thumbs up. Once she had turned her back and headed back into the house, Rosita and Michonne dissolved into a fit of giggles like they were school girls caught cutting class and smoking out in the parking lot. Rosita lifted her foot and put out her cigarette on the bottom of her shoe then put out her hand for Michonne's to do the same. She slipped the two butts into the pocket of her cardigan to dispose of in a safe place later then looked up and began laughing again once she met her friend's eyes.

"Ugh, you have no idea how much I missed you!"

"I do, actually, because I missed you like crazy, too...so what about _you_?" she asked, shifting the focus from herself. "And that army guy from Fort Benning? Is that still happening?"

"He's stationed out in Texas for the next year, so it's kind of on hold for now...probably forever," Rosita corrected with a healthy dose of realism. "But whatever, that's life. You ready?"

Michonne looked up at the house, still not quite ready to face it all just yet despite Rosita's encouragement.

"I'm going to take another minute."

"OK," she nodded. "But don't shy away. You belong here just as much as he does."

Michonne gave her a small, appreciative smile.

"I won't."

* * *

As Rick neared his truck, he began to pick up the faint smell of cigarette smoke air. The closer he got, the stronger the scent became, and once he reached the passenger side door, he could make out the hazy plumes of smoke rising in the air behind his truck and see the back of her head through the rear window.

He put his hand on his hip and paused for a moment. He then reached for the door, deciding it was best just to leave her be, but his morbid curiosity got the better of him because it just seemed so unlike her. He dropped his hand to his side and made his way around back to find her sitting on the tailgate of his truck puffing away on a cigarette while she stared out into the empty, rolling fields that surrounded the Greene's property.

"That's terrible for you," he blurted out, sounding far harsher than he'd intended.

She turned her head slowly at the sound of his voice and lowered her hand from her mouth, resting it on the edge of the tailgate.

"You came all the way out here to tell me that?"

"No," he grunted. "I just came to get Jessie her sweater."

Her eyes widened slightly and she quietly nodded. She not only seemed, but looked different than the last time he'd seen her.

Gone was the carefree, natural beauty he had fallen in love with. The woman he was looking at was still a beauty, without question, but her full cheeks had hollowed some; her big brown eyes were now rimmed in black, their shape sharpened and narrowed; her full lips were painted red, emphasizing her natural pout over her bright smile; her free, curly hair was slicked back swirled into a precise bun at the back of her head. She looked untouchable, and given how things turned out, maybe she always had been.

She looked down at the ground for a moment and grinned before looking back up at him. "You did it..congratulations on getting _Cum Laude_."

He wasn't sure why, but he was surprised she had noticed. Or maybe he was surprised that she still cared enough to say so. She was the only one he'd ever told about that goal, she had inspired it, really. Rick's destiny, in the eyes of his family, was to take over the family's successful farm. He didn't even need a college degree, nevermind honors for that, so it was no wonder that his large feat was met with the equivalent energy of _Well, isn't that nice_ by his family. As loving and supportive as they were, there was a part of him that they would never understand the way Michonne did. Part of him wanted to break down and share in this joy with the one person who really understood.

"Thanks...congratulations to you, too," he murmured instead.

She sucked in a deep breath, likely from the painfully stilted conversation, and simply nodded back appreciatively. At that point, he looked away and stared at the smoldering cigarette between her fingers. Despite all the time that had passed, he couldn't let go of the anger that had callused his heart where she was concerned.

"So what's next for you?" she asked quietly.

"I start the training academy next month."

"Quantico?"

"No. King County Sheriff's Office."

"So you're staying here?" she asked. He could hear the surprise in her voice, and took it as some sort of judgement.

"Just until I get three years experience under my belt, then FBI."

"Good for you."

He grunted appreciatively and shifted his weight on his feet then looked back toward the house, almost hoping that someone would rescue him from this conversation he couldn't seem to end for himself.

"What about you?" he asked, managing a quick glance in her direction.

"Moving back to Atlanta for now. I deferred making any big decisions because of travel and all, so…"

He could see her shrug out of the corner of his eye as she trailed off. Something about her vagueness irritated him, as if she was now too cool to care about jobs and graduate school like the rest of them….like she used to herself.

"Well, good for you."

"Yeah," she laughed awkwardly.

He shook his head and started back toward the car door to grab that sweater for Jessie. Once he had and shut the door behind him, he started back toward the house.

"I'm sorry, Rick."

He turned around to find that she was standing beside the truck watching him. Seeing her again had made him realize that he hadn't healed nearly as much as he thought he had, after all these months, it was still so raw. He didn't want to do this. Not with her, not right now, so he nodded stiffly and began to turn around again.

"Can we at least be friends?" she called out after him. When he didn't acknowledge her immediately, she amended her request. "Someday?"

He clenched his teeth together and took a moment to steal himself before turning around. "Thing is...we weren't really friends before, Michonne." He held his arms out at his sides. "So there's nothing to go back to, is there?"

To his surprise, her stiff upper lip had started to quiver. "OK, then can we be friendl_y_ at least?" she asked.

"Isn't that what we're doing now?" He sighed, irritated with himself for letting her get under his skin again.

"Yeah, I guess so," she whispered and looked away from him, covering her face with her free hand to hide her reaction from him, though he already felt it.

"I gotta get back inside," he mumbled.

He turned and started back for the house again, clenching Jessie's sweater in one hand as he wiped at his eyes with the other.

* * *

AN: Thanks for the reviews and follows with the last chapter-it's so good to see so many of you are still around and I'm grateful that you're taking the time to read this story again. This chapter hurts. I know and I'm sorry! It's the angstiest thing I've ever written, but hopefully that will make the outcome that much sweeter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Thanksgiving**

_November 2002_

"See, some people think cooking is an art, but I approach it as a science," Denise said from behind her kitchen counter, waving the wooden spoon in her hand as she spoke.

Rick chuckled to himself at the sight of her. Her messy blonde ponytail, the gold wire frame glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose, the puffs of flour on her shirt and jeans, the no less than two dozen bowls and kitchen gadgets scattered on the counter before her, and the cookbook tagged with too many Post-Its to count currently open to a recipe for green bean casserole. She looked more like a wizard than a scientist which was probably a good thing because, at the rate she was going, it was going to take some serious magic to pull off this feast.

"Sounds delicious," he mused from his stool on the opposite side of the counter.

"I am confident it will be. When you adhere to a strict protocol-"

He smirked. "You mean recipe."

"And control for variables," she continued, choosing to ignore him, "what could go wrong?"

"You know the Greene's invitation still stands, right?"

"Nope!" She put her head down and returned her attention to the cookbook. "This is the first Thanksgiving in our new house. Tara and I are starting our own tradition and you can say you were here for it."

"So it's just us today?"

"Yep. My parents went to visit my grandmother in Ohio. Tara's family all went to her sister's house, of course." She paused and looked up from her cooking then glanced around the kitchen. "I still don't think they're entirely cool with our engagement yet," she whispered, "but I'm sure they'll come around in time just like they did to us dating…" He nodded sympathetically and she went right back to chopping the ends off of a bundle of fresh green beans. "Glenn and Maggie are doing their Gleggie thing as you apparently know. Rosita is in Texas visiting that army guy, and Michonne is spending the holiday with her parents back in Atlanta."

"How do you keep up with all of that?"

"E-mail, Rick. And in your special, technologically challenged case, good old fashioned phone calls."

"I'm not in front of a desk all day like you all," he defended.

"That's right, he's out on the mean streets of King County day and night," Tara agreed as she breezed into the kitchen with a grocery bag in hand, "keeping it safe for all of us."

"Exactly." He held out his fist for a bump which was quickly reciprocated. "Thank you, Tara."

"Sorry it took me so long," she said to Denise. "I had to stop at three gas stations before I found one that was open." She set the quart of milk she had purchased on the counter then placed her hands on her hips to survey the project in front of her. "Need any help?"

"No, no. You're one of the variables I'm controlling for…" She glanced up at her fiancee and smiled sweetly. "Darling."

Tara scrunched her face and shared an indignant look with Rick. "Then I suppose I'll just set the table. Is Jessie coming?" she asked as she headed toward the cabinet.

"She said she might stop by later, but I wouldn't count on it. She's up in north Georgia with her family."

"I'll put out an extra setting just in case," she decided as she counted out four plates. "So how was your shift today? Anything exciting happen?"

He shrugged. "I got a BOLO call around 6:00 AM."

Tara's eyes lit up with recognition. "That's _be on the lookout_," she advised Denise as she set the stack of plates down on the counter.

"Yeah, I got it, Ms. Law and Order," her fiancee teased.

Tara just ignored her, too intrigued with the real life adventures of Deputy Rick Grimes to be bothered. "For what?"

"A runaway black and white Holstein cow named Petunia."

"Oh man," she laughed.

Denise looked up with interest at the mention of a cow. "Did you find her?"

"Yep. Out on Highway 440 and County Line Road. Had a long talk with her, asked her why she ran away, if everything was OK at home, and told her I knew a good animal psychiatrist if she needed one," he teased.

"Very funny," Denise deadpanned. It certainly wasn't the first time they'd teased her for her chosen graduate study of bovine sciences. "And I'm an animal behaviorist...in training."

"Can you believe you went to school for this stuff?" Tara asked.

Most days, no, he couldn't. As they were all learning now, post-collegiate didn't quite measure up to the promise of the bright, shiny futures painted in those inspirational graduation speeches. All they could say for the real world so far was that it was, indeed, real.

"How's work going for you?" Rick asked.

"Livin' the dream, man," Tara bragged as she fetched a bag of tortilla chips from the pantry. "Programming eight hours a day in my cubicle in an office park halfway between here and Atlanta? I have most certainly arrived."

She opened the bag and took one for herself then offered it up to Rick from across the counter. He took one which earned him Denise's attention and ire.

"Hey, you're gonna spoil dinner!"

"Well, how much longer is it going to take?" Tara asked.

Denise took a moment to assess how many more dishes she had to prep and multiply that by the cooking time and decided on a rather generous estimate. "About an hour...and a half."

Tara seemed to have as little faith as he did as evidenced by her opening the fridge and grabbing a jar of salsa before walking around the counter and plopping down on the stool next to him. She tossed the chips and salsa on the counter between them while Denise looked on incredulously.

"Honey!"

"What?" she exclaimed. "It's just a starter."

Rick watched as they continued to rib each other, lightly and lovingly, of course. They were, without a doubt, his favorite couple to be around; the kind where two people who are each great in their own right, come together to make this even more amazing team. He could only hope to find that perfect, easy match some day...which was to say that if he was here dreaming up his perfect relationship, he didn't have it with his current girlfriend.

Things were certainly easy with Jessie, but not in the way he wanted. She didn't ever push him or challenge him except when he tried wear boots to her sorority formal which was a scary fucking prospect because it wasn't just fashion that he clueless about in this life. She was never going to be the one he could lean on in good times and bad. Being with her used to feel better than being alone, but as the months wore on, he realized he couldn't help but feel alone again.

* * *

Exactly two hours and forty-eight minutes later, they were all seated at the dining room table around a turkey that looked pretty much cooked from the outside at least, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes and gravy, cranberry sauce, a basket of warm dinner rolls and a bottle of Chardonnay what was just begging to be uncorked.

Denise rubbed her hands together then picked up the carving knife, ready to slice up the turkey just as she had read in her trusty cookbook when a knock interrupted her. They all looked toward the front door where the sound had come from, cursing the visitor for his or her very poor timing.

"You expecting anyone?" Tara asked as she got up from her chair.

"No. Maybe the neighbors?" Denise guessed. "They mentioned they might stop by for dessert later." She glanced down at her watch. "Which would be, like now."

Tara shrugged and disappeared into the hallway to answer the door while Denise stood and raised her carving knife and fork over the turkey, then paused. Rick watched her tilt her head then angle the knife one way then another as she muttered something under her breath which made him chuckle to himself.

"You need help with that," he asked.

"You know how to carve a turkey?"

"Of course I do."

"Of course you do," she mocked, handing over the utensils. "Then have at it. I'll watch and learn for next year."

He sized up the turkey, trying to remember _exactly _how this was done. It had been a few years, but he was going to rely on muscle memory. It had to be like riding a bike, right? He inhaled the scent of the perfectly browned bird, closed his eyes, and pictured his mom making that first cut. He was about the follow the vision of his head-

"Michonne! What a surprise!"

Rick paused at the sound of Tara's obviously amplified voice coming from the foyer. Denise's eyes widened as he shot daggers at her with his eyes.

"She said she wasn't coming," she whispered back.

He exhaled through his nose and set the knife down on the table as he tried to push away the uneasy tension that was twisting every muscle in his body into knots.

"You're supposed to be my best friend."

Denise gasped and stood from her seat. "Well, you're the one who brought her into my life and made me fall in love with her, too!"

Rick scoffed at her misplaced blame. "And then we fell out of love."

A small smile crept onto her lips, and she tilted her head. She was so cueing up a smart ass response. "Did we, though?"

_Smart ass._ "Yeah, Denise, we did."

She looked him in the eye for a moment then hummed in response. A non-response, really. He hated when she turned her animal psychology on him. And he also hated that she didn't believe him. Just because he was still angry at Michonne didn't mean he still loved her, quite the opposite actually. And tonight, he was going to show them.

"You've been so pleasant lately, don't change now...because it's happening. So deal," Denise said as she fixed the fourth place setting.

When Tara led Michonne around the corner into the dining room, Michonne stopped abruptly, like she had just run smack into an invisible wall that had knocked the air out of her lungs. Her lips were still parted, unable to form the next word she had been planning to say. She locked eyes with him, and he stared back at her, still too stunned to respond.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"Hey!" Denise called back, already coming around to greet Michonne.

Michonne tore her eyes away from him and smiled at Denise as she approached. "Sorry, I should have called first. You had said to stop by whenever, so…"

"I did," she assured her.

"I can go," Michonne offered as she nodded toward the door.

"Or I can just go to The Greene's," Rick offered, "I-"

Denise shook her head threw her hands up in the air from her spot between the two of them. "No. No one needs to go anywhere. Everyone is welcome in our home."

She threw her fiancee, who was still hiding out behind Michonne, a look requesting back up.

"Yep," Tara agreed as she stepped forward. "Everyone is welcome here...like Switzerland, but in Georgia."

"We were just sitting down for dinner," Denise explained, motioning toward the table.

Michonne glanced at her watch and gave a curious look.

Denise shrugged. "Eh, took a little longer than expected."

"Well, it's fine, I can just-"

"Michonne," Denise exclaimed with frustration causing everyone in the room to take a step back. She took a deep breath and resumed her usual smile. "Sit," she instructed sweetly.

Rick looked down and resumed carving the turkey while Michonne slipped the cloth grocery bag off of her shoulder and began to walk toward the empty seat just across from where where he was stationed.

"I brought some wine and pecan pie," she said, offering up the pie to Denise as she kept the bottle with her. "I thought you'd be on dessert by now."

"Nope, you're just on time."

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Michonne slide into her seat and felt all eyes on him. This was the part where the man or woman of the hour would regale the table with a joke or thankful musings, but he had nothing now that she was there, just a jumble of feelings caught in his chest and rendering him speechless. Once he filled the serving plate with enough meat to feed a small army, he finally set the utensils down and took his seat. Tara and Denise shared a look while Michonne busied herself with adjusting the cloth napkin in her lap.

"Ok, now," Denise chirped as she looked around the table. "Should we say grace?"

She was met by blank stares all around from the little dysfunctional family that had gathered in her home. "Rick, you should say grace," she said, locking eyes with him.

"I don't want to say grace," he answered.

"But you should," Denise said, keeping her tone light, though her execution was completely heavy handed.

He stared back at her and didn't answer.

"No?" she chirped. "Alrighty then, dig in."

At her command, they began quietly and seamlessly passing the dishes around the table; no eye contact, no words. It was quite amazing how two people could work so well together in the name of avoiding contact with each other. Tara took in a deep breath and made eye contact with Denise across the table again. Denise let out a small laugh and shook her head, then stabbed her fork into a piece of turkey and began to eat.

And they ate and ate, the only sounds the clinking of forks and knives against plates and the sounds of chewing. Their plates were all at least half cleared by the time someone finally uttered a word.

"Mashed potatoes are good," Rick grunted quietly after swallowing the bite in his mouth.

"Mmm hmm," Tara agreed with a mouthful.

"Green beans, too," Michonne added.

"Thanks, guys." Denise beamed from the head of the table, probably thinking they were about to turn a corner...

Only they didn't. The awkward silence resumed as they neared clearing their plates.

It was no surprise then, that the sound of the door that led down to the basement opening caught their collective attention. And then the sight of their mulleted friend wearing a pair of royal blue boxers and a black _No Fear _t-shirt emerging from the underground held it.

He shuffled into the kitchen, opened the fridge and pulled out three cans of orange Crush soda, turned, and began to shuffle back to his lair without even acknowledging them.

"I didn't even realize he was here," Michonne whispered to Denise before greeting him. "Hey Eugene."

No response.

"Eugene, come sit with us," Denise called out.

"No thank you," he said in his standard monotone, avoiding all eye contact as he seemed to be on a mission.

"You want some turkey, at least?" Tara asked.

"Negative. No sleep 'til Vana'diel. Tryptophan is my kryptonite and your mortal drama drains my lifeforce. No offense, Rick and Michonne. Had I known you were here, I would have dawned my feelings armor for protection."

For the first time since she had arrived, Rick met Michonne's eyes briefly, sharing an indignant look over Eugene's accusation. Like how dare you talk about my ex and our fucked up situation like that.

"I must bid you adieu...oh, and happy turkey day. Gobble gobble."

And with that he opened the door and disappeared again leaving them all in a contact stupor from his strangeness.

"What was that?" Rick asked.

"He's been locked in his room playing _Final Fantasy XI_ since yesterday morning," Denise explained matter of factly as she returned to her dinner.

"_His_ room?" he asked.

"We didn't know what else to do when we moved out of our apartment." Tara shrugged. "He's like too Eugene to function. He never would have made it on his own."

"Jesus," he whispered, still shaking his head at the encounter.

Eugene had always been around. When and how he came around, that was up for debate. He once told Rick that he was Glenn's fraternity brother which might have made sense if only Glenn was ever in a fraternity. Another time he told Michonne that he had answered an ad in the school paper to be in one of Denise's behavioral studies, only Denise didn't recall that.

Point was, his origin story was still an unknown and something that had become a running inside joke for Rick and Michonne. Every once in a while, they would bring it up just to see what he would say and always struggled to keep a straight face when he gave a different answer. He found himself glancing at Michonne to see if she shared his sense of amusement, but she already had her head down and was pushing around the last few green beans on her plate with her fork.

So for the first time in a long time, he allowed his eyes to linger on her.

Gone were the lined eyes and dark lips from their graduation party. Her tight white dress was traded in for a chunky hunter green sweater and dark jeans that seemed to hang from her frame instead of hugging it like they used to. She was quiet, as they had all been, but with her it was noticeably different as she used to be the one laughing the loudest, literally lighting up a room with her smile and presence.

Now that he actually allowed himself to think about it, he supposed he had noticed this the last time he had seen her, only through the lens of lingering hurt and resentment, he had interpreted it as snobbery when perhaps all she had done was try to cover up whatever was going on with fancy clothes and makeup. The woman sitting across from him clearly didn't want to be here. Not to show off, not to win him back, not even to distract herself from whatever it was that was going on in her head at the moment...

Her phone began to ring, and she looked up, causing him to quickly look down to avoid being caught staring. She got up from her chair and by the time she reached her purse across the room, it had already stopped ringing, but she audibly sighed when she looked at the screen.

"Sorry, I have to make a call. Excuse me."

"Sure," Denise nodded.

Denise watched her exit through the sliding glass door off the kitchen then sit down on the edge of their back porch. She looked toward Tara and shared a looked while they both frowned knowingly, making Rick feel left out of their silent conversation.

"OK, what's going on with her?" he asked finally.

Denise quirked her head to one side at his sudden interest, or at least outward and open interest, for the first time in over a year. "You could ask her yourself…" she suggested with an innocent smirk.

He scoffed at her taunting and sat there, expecting her to answer his question, but after a few moments, it was clear to him that she had no plans to as she turned away and scooped up another helping of cranberry sauce. He really hated when she did this.

"Fine." He grabbed the napkin from his lap and dropped it on his empty plate then stood from his chair and headed off in the direction of the back porch.

* * *

He found her sitting on the steps, knees tucked against her chest, and shrouded in a cloud of smoke like she was the last time he had walked out to find her. It didn't make sense to him. She was a doctor's daughter and a biology major. She used to make green smoothies and try to drag him along to yoga. She knew how bad this was for her, but she kept doing it anyway. He walked out across the porch and sat next to her, resisting the urge to wave the smoke out of his face. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to say, but he felt this dormant sense of care for her being awakened in him. It was like muscle memory, and the heart was a muscle after all, right?

"Can I?"

She glanced down at Rick's outstretched hand motioning toward her cigarette and raised her brow, then she took one more long drag and passed it to him.

He had it between his thumb and forefinger considering it as she watched him. Did he play cool and take a puff? Would he even be able to without hacking up a lung? Instead he let it fall to the ground beneath them and stamped it out with the toe of his boot.

She huffed out a laugh and rolled her eyes at herself. "I should have known you weren't serious."

"I can't believe you're still at this. It's gonna kill you sooner than later at the rate you're going."

She blindly reached into the purse that sat between them, grabbed a pack of Marlboro Lights, and handed it over, leaving him to sit there stupidly for a moment. Eventually, he stuffed the pack into the front pocket of his shirt then rested his forearms on his folded knees while she sat there staring out into Tara and Denise's backyard, flicking the lighter over and over now that she had nothing else to occupy her hands.

"It's been a shitty year," she offered after a quiet moment.

"Yeah," was all he could say. He'd had one, too. "What happened today?"

She took in a deep breath and released it then turned to look at him. "Today would be that my parents thought Thanksgiving was a good time to tell me they're getting divorced."

Half the time, people are shocked by a divorce. _But they seemed so happy! _That wasn't something he would say about her parents. They never really did seem happy, nor did they seem unhappy. They weren't warm, nor expressive, but they were impressive people. The type you thought had it all together. So maybe their marriage didn't look like his parents', but it had to have been by careful design, and therefore solid and enduring. _That _was the thing that surprised him, that their marriage simply wasn't built to last.

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you...I think it's probably been a long time coming...or if I'm really being honest, I think it probably never should have happened at all."

"Michonne," he breathed out, her sad admission hitting in the gut and knocking the wind out of him. Without their relationship, there was no Michonne, and that was a sobering thought.

"Think about it. She and my dad met in undergrad. She never finished her degree because she got pregnant with me. They got married and she became Dr. Reeves's wife and got wrapped up in supporting his career, moving around for him, doing all of the things he never had time to do. Aside from me, she never really had anything of her own and we all know she didn't exactly find motherhood very fulfilling-"

"Michonne," he said again, helpless.

"Rick, it's OK. I've lived it. Having it all confirmed tonight was a lot, though, so I just didn't want to be there." She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and took in a deep breath. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring the drama out here, and I definitely didn't mean to drag you into it. I didn't think you'd be here."

"Don't worry about it. If I'd had the night you did, Denise would have been my first stop, too...God knows she has been before."

Michonne met his eyes and went quiet, biting down on her lip as they drifted into that painful history that existed between them. He hadn't planned on having _this _talk when he walked out here, but it was inevitable.

"I'm so sorry, Rick-"

He held up his hand and shook his head. "Let's not...not now."

She straightened and nodded, gathering back in all of the emotions that were about to come up. She looked out into the yard and started furiously flicking the lighter in her fingers causing him to let out a sad laugh. He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and held them out in front of her.

"You need these?"

She looked a him cautiously, like it was some kind of trap.

"Tonight's not the night to go cold turkey."

She smiled and took them from his hand. She pulled a cigarette out and studied it for a moment.

"She gave me this talk right before I left for Europe, about being my own person and not letting anything or anyone, including you, keep me from following my dreams."

Rick felt the same pang in his chest that he had felt so often that summer. He hadn't missed it at all. "Well, it wasn't necessarily bad advice," he conceded, hindsight being twenty-twenty and all.

"Really?" she scoffed. "Because I think it was kind of bullshit. Look at me. Look at _us_. If I had stayed, I'd probably have a job _and_ a fiancée," she supposed, motioning back to the happy couple inside. "Instead I'm back at home and working part time at the front desk of a hotel."

Rick went quiet for a moment thinking of that path that he was certain they would have taken had she not left him last August. While he had managed to regain some semblance of the life he had pictured for himself, she had not. In fact, her life still seemed to be unraveling before his very eyes. Never in a million years would he have imagined that, of the two of them, he would have come out "on top." Despite all of the hurt and pain, this didn't feel like a win, at least not one that he wanted.

"Look," he sighed. "I know your mom didn't have _my_ interest in mind when she told you all that stuff, but that's actually something I learned from our break-up."

Michonne looked at him curiously.

"After you left, I was…" He shook his head at the distant, yet still uncomfortable memory. "...gone. For longer than I'd like to admit. I stopped going out, stopped going to classes for a while...I was _this_ close to fucking everything thing up," he demonstrated by nearly pressing his thumb and forefinger together. "Denise and Tara tried to help me, Glenn tried. It was finally Maggie who literally forced me to get off the couch and go to class at gunpoint."

"_Literally_?" Michonne asked.

"Swear to God." He raised his hand in the air like he was taking an oath. "You know Maggie's crazy enough to pull something like that. Came over with one of Doc Greene's shotguns in her hands, yelled at me, and wouldn't leave until I got dressed and got in the car with her so she could drive me to class."

Michonne was genuinely smiling at the visual; albeit a very small, but genuine smile.

"I know, it's funny now, but it was a big awakening for me. Not the gun, but the whole damn thing," he clarified. "I realized that I couldn't let one person or one thing have that much bearing on my happiness, on my life and well-being. Not you, not friends or family. The next time things went to shit in my life, I would need to be OK for me."

Tears welled in her eyes as she sniffed and nodded back. "I've gotta be OK for me," she agreed.

This was where he would have reached out and wiped the tear on her cheek, then wrapped his arm around her shoulder and whisper that everything was going to be OK. He could feel the tension in his arm as he clasped his hands tightly, but tonight he was only going to tell her that she would be OK.

"You will," he said. "I happen to know you're good at kicking people's asses into shape."

She wiped the tear that had slid down her cheek and managed to choke out a laugh which made him feel a little better, too.

"Look, I know you said not now, but I'm not sure when I'm going to see you again, and I just need you to know that I am sorry, Rick. "

He shifted uncomfortably on the step and looked down for a moment, but didn't stop her. She clearly needed this, and he couldn't deny any longer that he probably did, too.

"I need you to know… I never meant to hurt you. Leaving you was the hardest thing I have _ever_ done. It would have been so easy to stay, but I thought that strength was forcing yourself to do those hard things. I had convinced myself that the voice in my head second guessing what I had done and the tears I cried were signs of weakness that I needed to overcome...I'm not excusing what I did. I just needed you to know where my head was...my heart was always with you, though," she admitted quietly.

He took in a deep breath that hitched in his chest, leaving him nodding quietly. Things used to be so easy with Michonne. He used to feel only love and adoration when he looked at her, and there were no questions, only faith and trust in her and their love. He would never be able to see her that way again, but he would never be able to see anyone in that way again. That was a far too naive view of love, and she, unfortunately, was the one who taught him that.

"Well, that's all in the past now," was all he could say.

"Yeah, it is," she breathed out.

They sat there quietly for a moment, letting their hearts and minds adjust to this shift, and breathing in the now clear air between them. It was, quite simply, a relief after carrying those feelings with them for so long.

"Well…" Rick pushed himself off the step and stood, brushing the dust off his jeans. "We should probably get back inside for dessert."

"Agree," she said as she stood, as well. "They're probably waiting on us."

She started to walk up the steps, then turned when she realized he was still standing where she left him.

"Sorry." He pulled is cell phone from his pant pocket. "I just need to make a quick call. Tell them I'll be right in."

She nodded and headed back into the house while he hit redial on the last number in his phone.

"Hey you, I was just gonna call you," Jessie answered.

"Oh yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah. Everyone's heading out over here. What's Denise and Tara's new address again? I need to print out directions before I leave."

"Yeah, so that's why I called you. Things are slowin' down over here, too."

"Oh," she chirped. "I'll just come straight to your place then."

He sighed wearily and rubbed his forehead as he turned to look back toward the house. He could see Michonne, Tara, and Denise moving around the kitchen, smiling and laughing as they did. She had rightfully come here seeking some comfort from her friends, and he didn't want to ruin that for her.

"Yeah, I'm exhausted from work and all, I'd only fall asleep on ya."

"I don't really mind that."

"How about tomorrow?"

"Sure."

"OK. Get home safe, alright?"

"OK...I'll miss you."

He furrowed his brow at the way she said it, singing it in a cutesy voice like a kid mindlessly sings a nursery rhyme. That wasn't missing someone, not in his experience at least, but what was he supposed to say?

"I'll miss you, too."

"Good night, babe!"

"Night."

He flipped off his phone and dropped it in his pocket, then headed back up toward the house just when Denise was walking out onto the porch was a knife in her hand. He threw his hands up in the air.

"I didn't give you any reason to want to use that on me," he said. "Promise."

She smiled as he joined her. "I know. I didn't get that impression...so? What'd you talk about?"

Rick placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. "We just said grace," he answered.

* * *

AN: I really meant to get this out to you earlier in the week to make up for the angstfest that was chapter 2, but life got in the way. Thank you all so much for reading and commenting and reaching out. Writing original stuff is actually very lonely for me, and I missed this sense of community so much. for the year I was away. I'm really excited to revise and move through these chapters quickly so we can get to the new material for those of you reading this a second time around. See you soon!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Commitment Ceremony**

_June 2003_

"When's the last time we hung out at the pool on a Friday afternoon?"

Michonne lifted the wide brim straw hat she had shading her face and cast an incredulous glance at Rosita who was lounging on the chaise beside her in her in a itty-bitty tropical print bikini.

"For me, it was last week…" Turns out that post-college-pre-grad school limbo was a pretty cush existence.

"I hate you."

"Trust me, I would much rather have something more important to do. I feel like my brain is rotting."

"Says the girl who just killed the GRE without any prep and managed to get into Columbia like it was nothing, but just wait until you're a couple months into your first semester. You'll be missing these days. I'd give anything to go back to how things were," Rosita lamented as she turned her head to the side and adjusted the green army cap on her head to to see her friend better. "I think it must have been Spring semester of junior year. Our Spanish Film class got out at twelve-thirty and we'd go to Publix and grab some subs, a handle of rum, and a few of those strawberry daiquiri mixers in the freezer section and just spend the rest of the afternoon poolside at your apartment."

"Listening to Destiny's Child and Shakira," Michonne added with a smile.

"Yes!" She turned and propped herself up on her elbow with excitement. "I say, screw grad school. Let's go find a pair of rich brothers or best friends, and become their trophy wives so we can just do this all day, every day."

"How much have you had to drink?" Michonne teased, nodding toward the half-drunk Mai Tai sitting on the shared table between them.

"Not enough." She picked up the drink in question and took a long pull through the straw before setting it back down. "OK, flip."

They flipped onto their stomachs, then readjusted their bikinis that shifted in the move and reached for their drinks simultaneously which gave them both a laugh.

This _was_ the life. Having the rooftop pool of their Savannah hotel all to themselves on a weekday afternoon, good drinks served by an attentive bartender, their own personal music courtesy of Rosita's portable CD player, and, of course, the company of her best friend and roommate for the last eight months. It was a move made at Rosita's insistence that she needed a fresh start for the new year, and she had no doubt that her friend's love and support was a big reason she was sitting here feeling like herself again.

Her therapist was another reason. Dr. Toni Pavone, a fifty-something ex-New Yorker with a gruff delivery who listened to classical music in her office and chain-smoked her way through their sessions which inadvertently held up a mirror to Michonne's own vice which she decided was pretty unflattering. It took exactly one session before she quit cold turkey...for the second and final time.

The official diagnosis was adjustment disorder, though Dr. Pavone had other colorful ways of referring to it, which was basically a situational depression in response to the stressors in her life: being away from home, a break-up, graduation, uncertainty about her future, her parents' divorce. Not one to coddle, the most pity she would allow Michonne was that it was "a lot" to handle at once. So they met weekly to talk and explore feelings and coping strategies and goals until it wasn't "a lot" anymore, it just was.

"I'm gonna miss you," Michonne sighed.

"I'm gonna miss you, too, roomie," Rosita said with a pout. "What am I going to do without you? Who am I going to watch _American Idol_ with?"

"Abe? In Texas? When you move out there to be with him?"

"No," she scoffed. "He's a pig."

"Then why do you fly out to visit him every other weekend?"

"Because he's a lovable pig," she answered with a roll of her eyes before reaching out to smack her best friend's arm. "Don't you get all shrinky on me! Exploring my feelings and all that shit."

"I'm not!"

"Wait." She smirked. "What did your shrink say you had again?"

Michonne bit down on her lower lip and began to grin. "A 'severe case of early onset quarter life crisis'."

Rosita began to laugh, having always been tickled by the diagnosis. "That always makes me think of that John Mayer song. _It might be a quarter life crisis_, " she began to sing, human jukebox that she was, "_Or just the stirring in my soul. Either way I_," she started laughing when her voice cracked as she tried to imitate his high note.

Michonne covered her ears with her hands. "Yeah, I got it. Thanks.".

"I think I have that CD out in my car, actually," Rosita mused.

"I'm sure you do. This is good, though."

Michonne reached down and turned up the volume to the Maroon 5 CD they were listening to. She then crossed her arms in front of her, laid her head on them like a pillow, and shut her eyes to take a little nap while Rosita stayed propped on her elbows, absently kicking her feet as she slurped down the rest of her drink and hummed along to the song.

"Uh oh, Maggie and Rick at eleven o'clock," Rosita warned.

"And?" Michonne questioned without even lifting her head.

"And, how fun!" Rosita over corrected with saccharine sweet positivity that had to have left a bad taste in her mouth. "Sorry, old habits die hard...Hey!" she called out to the approaching group.

"Hey!" Maggie called back. "Feels like old times, crashing your pool parties."

Michonne lifted her head and smiled at her friends and began to get up from the chaise to greet them.

"Only now we come with better booze," Glenn said, holding up the bucket of imported beers they had bought at the bar.

"Hey," Michonne said warmly as she wrapped her arms around Maggie.

After a tight squeeze, she moved over to Glenn to hug him. And then there was Rick...standing just behind him in a white t-shirt and navy blue boardshorts, holding his towel and a bottle of sunscreen, and grinning knowingly at her.

It was that awkward moment when you've already given everyone else a hug, but there's that last person you otherwise wouldn't have greeted so warmly...so did you suck it up and do it or stick to your guns and risk looking like a jerk? She and Rick weren't exactly best friends, but they were in a good enough place after they had cleared the air over Thanksgiving, meaning they could be in each other's presence on occasion without shedding any tears or wanting to kill each other.

She grinned at him and shrugged, then he shrugged, and they both opened their arms and gave each other a brief hug, their first since the night she left him two years ago. And if the lead in was as awkward as two shy kids at a junior high dance, the disentanglement was even more so. As they pulled away, they met eyes and both had to look away almost instantly, chuckling self-consciously at their present situation.

Rick cleared his throat and looked up first. "We tried to see if Tara and Denise needed any help, but they said they had it all under control. So figured we'd catch some sun."

"Yeah, they're like the world's most laid-back brides for sure," Michonne agreed. "Doesn't feel like any wedding I've ever been to."

"No, it actually seems like it's gonna be fun."

She laughed. "Exactly."

They stood there smiling and nodding for a moment since they had apparently lost all ability to act naturally around each other. Sweet shyness beat the hell out of a tense standoff any day, though, and so she would deal with it. She looked around to see that it was just them left standing. Rosita had gone back to sunbathing, and Maggie and Glenn were busy getting situated two lounge chairs down from him, leaving him the empty one next to hers. She took her seat again and laid down while he turned away and spread his towel out over the chaise then peeled off his t-shirt and proceeded to apply sunscreen to his face then arms, neck, bare chest, and back…

It was incredibly difficult not to look. Rick certainly hadn't become less attractive in light of the break-up. Objectively speaking, he looked better than ever. He was always slim, a runner, but not a gym guy. Apparently he had been hitting the weights or eating well or something, though, given the swell and definition of the muscles of his back and arms.

He reached over his chair to grab a beer, giving her the cue to return her eyes forward before he turned around.

"You want one?" he asked, holding out the cold bottle in front of her.

"Uh, yeah, sure."

He used his keychain to pop the cap off for her, then handed it over and retrieved one for himself and eased down onto his lounge chair. She took a sip then set the bottle down on the table between her and Rosita then reached for her straw hat and placed it over her face again in order to bar any temptation to sneak a peek at what he had going on on the frontside.

* * *

Tara's hands fell away from Denise's cheeks as their lips parted, exposing their pinkened color as the crowd that had gathered in their honor cheered them on. They smiled at each other and clasped hands, then turned to head down the aisle.

"Hold on!" the officiant called out. "Get back here. I'm not through with you two yet."

"Sorry," Denise offered sheepishly as they took their places again while their friends and family laughed and took their seats again.

"I just want to say a few more words before we part." Their officiant, a friend of Denise's mother who was a professor of religious studies and ordained minister by virtue of an online church, smiled warmly at the two women. "I have to admit, these are my favorite ceremonies to perform. Not a wedding, but a _commitment_ ceremony. A simple celebration of love and commitment between two people, not mandated by any church or even recognized by any governing body. Some may ask, _why even do it then?_"

Michonne tilted her head thoughtfully from her seat in the second row while listening to the officiant's closing words.

"Because despite all of our differences, love is what we all share. It's the great unifier — our one universal truth. That's why you are standing here. That's why you were all are here to witness this," she said to the crowd as she motioned toward them with outstretched arms.

"We have all loved in our lifetimes, and in this moment, we're reminded that the ability to love is the very best part of our humanity. All of us here today have our own love stories. Some are short, others long. Some are yet unwritten, while others are just getting to the good part. There are chapters in all of our stories that are sad or disappointing — and others that are exciting and full of adventure."

As a child and then a teenager, Michonne never understood why people cried at weddings outside of the bride and her parents. It was a happy affair, a celebration that would end in cake and the Electric Slide. What was there to cry about? But here she sat, for the first time in her life, with tears forming in her eyes and now she finally understood because she had loved and been loved. Of course she was happy for her friends, but the tears flowed as you thought of the person waiting for you at home, or the one that got away, or the one that passed away, or the one sitting right beside you.

"Tara and Denise, this is but one moment in your journey together. Cherish it, and always cherish each other and the life you have made together."

The officiant beamed down at them as they looked lovingly at each other. Michonne dabbed her eyes with the back of her finger and looked around to see others doing the same.

"Now?" Denise whispered to the officiant after standing there for a few seconds without any further direction, causing the first few rows that could hear her to laugh.

"Yes," she nodded. "Now."

They turned to their friends and family, raised their joined hands in the air, then proceeded down the aisle while everyone clapped and cheered for them.

"That was a beautiful ceremony."

Michonne turned to Rick who was standing there beside her as they waited to exit their row.

"It was."

* * *

"And now I'd like to invite all of the couples to join Tara and Denise on the dance floor," the DJ announced.

Maggie popped up from the table because she unabashedly loved this kind of stuff, and dragged Glenn out there with her, leaving the singles behind at the table to watch the Tara and Denise's first dance to _She Will Be Loved _turn into a celebration of coupledom...which was one of the most painful parts of this tradition whether you even cared to be a coupled off or not. At best, it was awkward and boring, and at worst it was like rubbing salt in a wound.

They all had their way of getting through it, though. Eugene was creating origami with the place cards. Rosita shamelessly downed her glass of wine then "borrowed" the half glassful that Maggie left behind. Michonne sat there sipping her vodka soda as she observed this all with a grin on her face, and Rick sat at attention like a good officer as he sipped on his beer. In some ways, he still felt like she was sitting at the kid's table at these sorts of affairs, watching the adults do grown up things that he wasn't quite prepared for yet.

Finally, the song faded out, and the room clapped politely as the couples all ended their dances with kisses and hugs and began to disperse.

"Now where my party people at?" the DJ announced in the same cheesy voice that all DJ's seemed to possess.

His attempt at hype failed to inspire the crowd as people continued to leave the dance floor, but when the opening horns of the next song blared, that was another story.

"Oh hell yes. _Crazy in Love_!" Rosita popped up out of her seat in a Pavlovian-like response and began to strut onto the dance floor as if she was Beyonce herself.

She spun around and began popping her booty in time to the _uh oh_'s with Eugene and Michonne, then suddenly stopped dancing and folded her arms across her chest when she realized he wasn't with them.

"Are you serious?"

"I don't dance!" he defended from his chair.

"Bullshit. I've seen you dance a million times."

He glanced over at Michonne who was biting back a smile just out of Rosita's sight because she knew his secret. He had _appeared_ to be dancing all those years, but in reality, he was just hiding behind his then-girlfriend while she did all the work. It was all a trick of the eye. When he didn't respond right away, Rosita huffed and threw her arms up in frustration.

"When this song comes on, you dance. Period," she explained clearly. "I don't care who you are, where you're from, whether you're rhythmically challenged or not, you get your ass up and dance. Look, even Eugene is dancing!"

She pointed over at Eugene who was looking like a cross between an English school boy and the lead singer of AC/DC in his black knickers with a matching jacket and page-boy cap doing a move that one would call _The Walk Like an Egyptian _if they were even going to attempt to describe it.

"Damn right I am," Eugene said proudly. "This song samples the 1970 Chi-Lites hit _Are You My Woman_, open parenthesis, _Tell Me S_o, close parentheses. It is a veritable jam."

"Yeah," Rosita said, accepting his backup while looking simultaneously confused by it, "so don't make me fight you. God knows I've wanted to a few times over the past year, just didn't think it end up being over Beyonce."

He glanced back at Michonne who had her hand over her mouth now and was laughing at his expense behind it while he squirmed under the threat of getting beat up by Rosita. While he had at least fifty pounds and a foot of height on her; her attitude, toughness, and fake nails made her a wild card in a fight.

"Come on," Michonne said finally as she moved toward him and held out her hand. He tentatively reached for it, but paused. "I got you," she whispered once her back was to Rosita.

He clasped her hand and allowed himself to be pulled out of his seat, then followed as she led him onto the dance floor.

_Such a funny thing for me to try to explain_

_How I'm feeling and my pride is the one to blame_

_'Cause I know I don't understand_

_Just how your love can do what no one else can_

Once they reached Eugene and Rosita, she placed his hand on her left hip and raised her hands in the air as Rosita slid into the space in front of her and the two of them began moving in perfect coordination at different ends of the same rhythm paying no mind to him while he had not choice but to pay all the mind in the world to the woman right there in his reach.

When her looked down over her shoulder, he could see down the low, scooping cut of her floral spaghetti strap dress and if he looked down he could see the already slim space between her backside and his frontside come close to closing with each movement she made, and when he looked up and closed his eyes, he could still feel her hips swaying to the music under the tentative grip of his hand.

And this was why he always assumed it was impossible to be friends with someone you had already crossed so many lines with. All he had to do was wrap his arm around her waist, pull her into him, drop his head into the crook of her neck, and they would be right back where they started. At least he would be.

_It's the way that you know what I thought I knew_

_It's the beat my heart skips when I'm with you_

_But I still don't understand_

_Just how your love can do what no one else can_

A hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts and pulled him from behind Michonne. He looked to see Glenn wrapping his arm around his shoulder as he bopped to the beat while Maggie did the same with Michonne and Rosita, pulling them into a circle as Tara and Denise dragged Eugene in on the other side to close just the way they would find themselves doing at the end of every drunken night out.

"Aww, I missed this!" Maggie cried out in the midst of their huddle in the middle of the dance floor.

"I know!" Tara agreed. "It means everything to have you all here today."

"Everything," Denise seconded. "Bring it in, guys. Come on, come on," she insisted as she gathered them in.

They all pulled in closer, aww-ing and laughing as they hugged each other. Rick shared a brotherly pat on the back with Glenn then turned to his left to give Denise a kiss on the cheek. He looked across the small circle to see Maggie, Rosita, and Michonne laughing and exchanging kisses and _I love you_'s and couldn't help but smile at the sight, one he had witnessed countless times before. When they were finished, Michonne turned her head away and looked across the circle, catching his eye, and they exchanged a grin as they danced among their friends.

* * *

"Party in Room 904!" Rosita's arm shot up in the air, causing her to wobble in her platform heels, and threatening to bring herself and Michonne, who was supporting her with an arm around her waist, down.

Rick swept in just in time, grabbing her arm and throwing it over his shoulder to lend some more support much to Michonne's relief. She glanced over at him and mouthed a t_hank you_ to which he mouthed back, _no problem_. The bell dinged, and the doors opened on the fifth floor, and Maggie and Glenn rushed out of the elevator as if they couldn't get out fast enough.

"OK, we'll come up in a bit," Maggie turned to say once they were clear.

"Lies," the party girl sneered.

"Rosita!" Maggie gasped.

Michonne glanced over at Rick and shared a grin. They were all drunk, but this one between them was wasted.

"It's not _your _wedding night," Rosita astutely pointed out. They could see it written all over Gleggie's giddy little faces, they were going to go bang...then fall asleep and ditch their friends. "You have to hang out! We never get to do this anymore."

"In a bit!" Maggie promised. Glenn just shrugged then waved goodbye as his girlfriend dragged him down the hall.

"Lame." She shook her head at them. "Lame!" she yelled as the doors began to close and they disappeared out of sight.

Michonne giggle and placed her pointer finger over her friends lips to hush her, only to have her pry it away indignantly.

"No, nobody else is bailing. And I'm specifically talking to you, Grimes," she warned as she looked up at him.

"I wouldn't dare," he promised. "I'm in. All night."

"Alright," she nodded before switching her attention to her friend. "And you?"

"All night," Michonne swore, although she knew Rosita would be crashing before she would have to break her promise.

She looked up at Rick who was grinning back, having taken the same chance just to placate her.

"And you, loser?" she asked as she stubbed the toe of her heel against Eugene's combat boots.

"Post-meridiem to ante-meridiem."

"Good," she huffed as the bell dinged and the doors opened up to their floor.

With her first step, her feet all but fell out from under her, causing Rick and Michonne to falter themselves before they took tighter hold of her and guided her down the hall. Michonne directed Eugene to pull their room key from her purse and unlock the door once they reached Room 904.

As the door opened, Rosita broke out of their grasp, kicked her heels off by the door then plopped onto the double bed closest to the door. Eugene followed her in and belly flopped onto the bed that Michonne had claimed as her own for the weekend causing her to click her tongue in protest which made Rick laugh and earned him a dirty look.

"After you," he said, motioning her in, then shutting the door behind them.

She walked over to Rosita's bed then took a seat beside her, kicked off her heels, and pulled her feet up under her as she leaned back against the headboard. Rick grabbed two bottles of water they had sitting on the desk and kept one for himself and tossed the other to Michonne, then took a seat on the edge of the bed that Eugene was sprawled across.

"What should we do?" Rosita yawned as she curled up against Michonne.

"Umm...I don't know," Michonne shrugged. "Rick?"

"No," Rosita interrupted before he could answer. "I know, we should play a game, like Never Have I Ever, or no! Truth or Dare."

Rick and Michonne shared a cringey look, like they were stuck in some adult slumber party from hell.

"OK, Eugene," she decided. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," he answered, still belly down on Michonne's bed, arms crossed under his head.

"How many women have you been with...if any at all?"

"In reality or virtual reality?" he asked without missing a beat.

Both Rick and Michonne had to hold back their laughs.

"...both?" Rosita supposed.

"Seven and twelve respectively." The room was collectively stunned silent, and left feeling oddly inadequate. "And do not ask the who, what, where, when, how's. A gentleman never tells. Rick, truth or dare?"

"Uh," Rick stammered, still reeling from Eugene's reveal. "Truth?"

"Michonne, Rosita, and Maggie. Screw, marry, kill?"

"Um, let's see…" Rick was clearly stalling and Michonne didn't mind one bit. She did not need to hear the answer to this question. "That's tough…"

"Don't even," Rosita protested. Her words were biting, but her delivery was less so as she struggled to stay awake. "You'll kill Maggie, screw me, and marry Michonne."

Michonne looked down at Rosita with alarm, then looked up at Rick who looked so incredibly uncomfortable, it was actually made her start to giggle.

"I guess so then," he agreed, technically answering without really doing so. Either way, he was off the hook and looked to the next person in their circle. "Michonne," he smiled. "Truth or dare?"

She smiled back nervously. "I'm too tired to move, so truth."

"If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?"

She laughed with relief at softball he had lobbed her way. "Good one."

"Not good," Rosita murmured into her side where her face was pressed.

"Wow, this is so tough…" Michonne mused, overly animated for Rosita's sake. "I love burgers, but pasta...or sesame chicken…hmm, I'm gonna have to go with pasta."

"Pasta it is," Rick nodded, smiling back.

"Rosita."

She mumbled something, eyes now firmly shut.

"Truth or dare?" Michonne asked.

"Truth," she mumbled back.

"Are you falling asleep right now?"

"No," she groaned weakly.

Michonne giggled quietly at her friend and shared a look with Rick who was, as well. She then looked over to see Eugene, motionless on her bed, eyes shut and snoring softly.

"Eugene?" she whispered. No response. "Damn, I was going to ask him to tell us how he met us once and for all, but I guess I can't, so…"

It was just the two of them now. She barefoot in her party dress and he in his black pants and white dress shirt, top buttons undone and tie draped across the end of the bed with his jacket. His eyes were slightly hooded from a combination of the alcohol and the late hour, she knew this from experience.

"Rick?" she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Truth or dare?" she asked quietly while a mischievous smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth.

He stared back at her, all squinty eyed and pensive. "Truth," he decided after a moment.

She smiled back at his choice, then nodded. And what possessed her to ask this question? She was going to have blame it on the dangerous combination of too many vodka sodas and being his justifiably curious ex-girlfriend.

"How many women have _you_ slept with?"

"Wow," he choked out. "Really, Michonne?"

"It's what my girl would have wanted," she simpered, trying to to also pin some blame on her sleeping friend.

"Three. One before you and and one after," he shrugged back. "You?"

"Three," she answered just as honestly. "One before you and one after you."

For some reason that surprised him given the arched brow. "Some guy in France?" he asked.

He apparently thought she had lived it up that year, if only he knew how far from the truth that was. "No, actually. He was a grad student at Georgia Tech that I dated for a couple months when I got back."

"Oh?" Rick asked with exaggerated interest just to give her a hard time.

"Yeah," she smiled self-consciously. "You're not the only one getting back out there."

"Cool." She thought they were going to lapse into another awkward silence when he surprised her. "Truth or dare?"

"Oh." She was admittedly drunk off the truths they were sharing in interested in learning more. "Truth."

"Was it good?" he asked, one-upping her boldness.

"I've had better," she admitted, straight-faced. "Truth?" she assumed, not even allowing him a moment to let that sink in and enjoy it like she imagined he probably wanted to.

"Yeah."

"Where's Jessie?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" she asked with amusement. "Shouldn't her boyfriend know these things?"

"I'm not her boyfriend. Haven't been for a while now…"

"Oh." That was a game changer. Their little game and their proximity to each other felt more dangerous all of a sudden. "I didn't get the memo."

"Nobody did. It just kind dropped off."

"What _was_ that anyway?"

"What do you mean, _what was that_?" he shot back, chuckling at the judgement in her tone.

"I didn't realize she was your type," she explained. "I was kind of surprised to see you with someone like her."

"What you saw was me trying."

"Sure," she allowed, "but with _her_?"

"What the hell else was I supposed to do?" he laughed. "I wanted to be with you, thought you were it for me, then you were like, _I'm going to Europe, then graduating, and who knows what_?" He finished with a flick of an imaginary ponytail over his shoulder.

"I didn't say it like that," she defended, despite laughing at his imitation.

"You said it exactly like that! I never expected you to end up back here. I figured you were going to stay in Europe or if you did come back, it would have been to New York or California or something. Either way, it wasn't going to involve me."

"Is that why you were such an asshole when I came back?"

"I was still hurt...and angry with you," he admitted. "I was just trying to protect myself, but yeah, I was an ass in doing so, and I'm sorry for that. Really, I am."

"Apology accepted," she said easily.

It would have saved a lot of heartache and at least a few sessions of therapy had it gone this way the first time around, but she knew that these things couldn't be rushed. As cliche as it was, time did heal old wounds. She supposed she should just be thankful that they got here at all.

"So you all packed and ready to go?" he asked.

"Yep," she nodded. "I'm driving up to New York on Tuesday."

"See, I knew you wouldn't be sticking around here for long."

"Well, I'm glad you did because for a while there, I really didn't," she admitted.

"You excited?"

"Yeah?" she answered hesitantly. "It feels good to have a purpose again. I hope clinical psychology was the right path to take."

"How could it be wrong? Good work, great school."

"That's what I told myself. And if I fucked up, I'll have the skills to take care of myself this time around."

He smiled back at her. "You're not a fuck up."

As strange as it sounds, that was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to her. Or maybe just the most timely because it's what she needed as she was about to make a big move like this. She took a sip of water and smoothed her dress over her lap before meeting his eyes again.

"So you still track to be a G-man?" she asked.

"Nobody says that anymore," he huffed.

"They did on The X-Files," she reminded him.

"Yeah, but-" He sighed and shook his head at her. "Yeah. One year down, two more to go until I can apply for the FBI."

"Good for you, Agent Mulder," she teased just like used to.

Although she harbored a little crush on the fictional agent they had watched on Sunday nights and in reruns, she always maintained that her boyfriend would give him a run for his money as the bureau's hottest agent. He rolled his eyes at her teasing while her smiling mouth turned into a frown as she began to shift in her seat on the bed, trying not to awaken the sleeping beauty whose head was resting on her lap.

"My foot's falling asleep," she hissed.

He got up to help brace Rosita while she extracted herself and slip off the bed, then quickly offered her his other hand while she hopped on one leg, the other now all pins and needles and too painful to touch to the floor as it woke up. After a few seconds, her foot was back in commission and she smiled in gratitude as she slipped her hand from his and stood there looking around the room. Rosita was sprawled across one double bed, and Eugene was dead to the world and snoring on the other.

"Guess I'm sleeping on the floor tonight."

"You can stay in my room."

She looked up at him with surprise.

"I've only got one bed, but it's a king, so...it's better than the floor at least," he figured, seeming a bit shy about his offer now.

"You sure?"

"I wouldn't have offered otherwise."

"Then yeah. I can't afford to have a stiff neck on the drive up. I'll just get ready for bed and then I'll be down."

"OK," he said with a small grin. "It's 912. I'll leave the door cracked for you."

"Thanks," she said with a shy smile.

She walked him out then went over to her suitcase and plucked out her pajama shorts and coordinating tank top then walked into the bathroom, shut the door behind her and turned on the lights. She stopped and looked at herself in the mirror, face still made up and short locs twisted into an updo. She looked pretty good and she knew it, and she knew he thought so, too, as she had caught him checking her out a few times throughout the weekend just as she was sure he caught her doing, as well.

This was risky, though.

Two drunk exes with a long history and no shortage of physical attraction to each other sharing a bed? Knowing Rick, he was just being the Southern gentleman that he was, and it was nothing more than a polite offer. But also knowing Rick in the way that she did, he just might have known exactly what he was doing…

She bit down on her lip and shook her head at these thoughts running through her head. Regardless of what his intentions were or what their desires were at this late hour, she couldn't pass up the chance to be near him again. To feel the warmth of his body, the slightly salty smell of skin at the end of the day, maybe the light pressure of his hand on her back as he led her into the room. These were the things she had ached for and imagined over and over again when she was alone and missing him.

She washed her face and brushed her teeth, then slipped off her dress and underwear. She reached behind her to unclasp her bra, then stopped herself, deciding to leave it in place for modesty's sake. She pulled on her shorts and camisole then flicked off the light and grabbed her purse and room key as she quietly slipped out the door and into the hallway, anticipation building with each room she passed.

When she reached his, the door was cracked as promised, but she still knocked lightly before opening it, and when she did, she could hear the faucet running from behind the closed bathroom door. She turned to shut the door and locked it behind her then stood there waiting in the middle of his room, feeling vaguely nervous like she had the first time he'd ever invited her back to his place after a date early on in their freshman year.

The faucet turned off and then she heard the click of the door and he emerged in a pair of blue plaid boxer shorts and a white t-shirt, also for modesty's sake she presumed, as he was never one to wear a shirt to bed per her experience. He smiled shyly at her and her at him, both of them feeling some kind of nostalgia to find themselves in this situation again.

He walked toward her, quiet and maintaining her gaze as he neared, and when he reached her, she just did what felt natural and reached up and wrapped her arms around his back and he responded by wrapping his arms around her waist and dropping his head against her shoulder and breathed her in.

Her hand snaked up the back of her neck and her fingers combed through the short hairs on the back of his head then begin to knead it with the tips of her fingers which always gave him chills, she could feel him shiver under her touch. He wrapped his arms tighter around her and let his hand slide down the dip of her lower back and rest on the curve below it. There was just a way they touched, unique to them, and it was like they were powerless against it.

He lifted his head and she tilted her chin up to look at him. He moved his hand to her cheek and she smiled knowingly at him, because they both know what came next. As much as her the parts of her body that had not felt his touch yet were aching to have their turn, her mind was screaming at her to stop because as good as this felt in this moment, it would no doubt affect their tenuous friendship and threaten to ruin her second chance in NYC.

"I feel like we're in a good place right now." She sighed, then covered his hand with hers. "And I'd like to leave it that way this time."

"Yeah," he nodded, looking like he had just been broken out of a trance. "I think that's probably for the best."

She smiled then squeezed his hand before dropping hers to her side as they stepped out of their embrace. She walked around to one side of the bed and he to the other, they both slipped under the covers, leaving the safe distance of two arm lengths between them.

"Good night," he whispered.

"Good night," she whispered back.

He reached for the lamp on his bedside table, and with a click, the lights went out.

* * *

Michonne's head shot up from her pillow as Rick blindly reached for the ringing phone on his nightstand that had so rudely awakened them.

"Hello," he eked out.

All she could see was the top of his head as he was still tangled up and buried in the white comforter. She propped herself up on her elbow and patted down the blankets and sheets to try to see over them..

"Uh huh...yeah...OK."

He placed the hand set back on the mount and sunk back into his pillow with a groan. Michonne inched closer and pulled the comforter back from his face.

"Who was that?"

"Maggie," he grunted while rubbing his forehead. "She says breakfast downstairs at ten."

"What time is it now?"

He raised his arm to check his watch. "Nine-thirty."

She cursed and threw the covers off of herself, then sat up and swung her legs over the side, about to slide off the bed until she felt his hand on her wrist. She looked back at him curiously.

"I've got to get back home for my shift this afternoon, so I'm not going to be able to come."

She looked down at his hand and frowned. She wasn't going to get to explore their new friendly status over a lazy Sunday morning like she had thought, or maybe even get another fix when they shared another hug when they said goodbye. This is how they were leaving things and who knew what she would be coming back to next time.

"So, this is it," he said.

"I guess so."

"Good luck up in New York," he said with a sleepy smile.

She grinned back. "Thank you."

He squeezed her hand then released. She straightened her tank and shorts then stood up and began to walk toward the door.

"Go get 'em," he called out from bed.

She let out a small sigh then gave him a thumbs up before slipping out of his room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Independence Day**

_July 2004_

"So? How did you meet? I mean, I know you met at school, but _how_?"

Maggie peered at Michonne's new boyfriend over her cat-eye sunglasses. She looked like a fifties beach bunny the way she was lying on her stomach, hands clasped under her chin like a hammock, a red bandana wrapped around her head, and a blue polka dot bikini.

Maggie looked sweet, but she could be prickly, and Michonne had told Siddiq as when giving him the run down on her friends over Coke and mini pretzels on the flight down, which is why he was looking at her with slight terror in his eyes. She wasn't worried, though, because he was golden and as soon as they got to know him, she knew they'd agree. Even Maggie.

"Go ahead," she encouraged with a gentle shoulder nudge.

He smiled back then cleared his throat while the two women, make that four now that he had Denise and Tara's attention a few towels over, all watched him expectantly. The high Georgia sun beating down on them already had his brow beaded with sweat, and this friendly interrogation probably wasn't helping either. He wiped his brow with his hand, then ran it through his dark, wavy hair, slicking it back with the sweat that had collected on his palm.

"Well, there's this bar little bar a couple blocks off campus called, uh, 1020 Bar, and they have trivia night every Tuesday, and, um, my friends and I-"

"_The Killer T Cells_," Michonne bragged, still tickled by the name.

He laughed self-consciously at his girlfriend's well-intentioned assist. "We were a bunch of second year med students," he explained. "Unapologetic nerds."

"Nothing wrong with that," Denise chimed in.

"Anyway, we had this twenty-four week winning streak going until we encountered some new team called _Bad DSMFers _ the first week of September-"

"I don't get it," Maggie said.

"The DSM is the diagnostic manual we use in mental health, so it's like a play on that with bad mother-"

"Yeah, I get it now," Maggie said. "Cute." She gave an apathetic laugh then focused on Siddiq again. "So you're at this bar…."

"Right, so my four friends and I are sitting in our lucky booth eating our lucky nachos and drinking our lucky beers thinking we're going to make it number twenty-five this week...first question comes, and boom, buzzer sounds and some woman a few booths over," he sneered, glancing down at Michonne, "busts out with the answer! Same with the next one and the next one and the next one. Finally, I was like, enough already. Who is this chick?"

As her friends laughed along with his story, she wrapped her hands around his arm and beamed up at him. He looked more at ease and was growing more animated as he told their story. So golden.

"So at half-time, I decided to go scope out the competition. I walk toward their booth, and my pride is hurt because we're getting annihilated at this point," he confesses. "I had decided they had to be cheating or something, and I was going to get to the bottom of it. I mean, I was already thinking up something smart to say in my head. And I get to the table, see the group all wearing their Columbia Psych sweatshirts, and then I see her…" He trailed off shaking his head as he looked down at her. "And all that bravado went right out the window. I was reduced to the geek that I am in her presence. I was just like, 'Uh hi, I'm Siddiq'," he recalled, hunching his shoulders and meekly extending his hand for illustration.

Michonne scoffed at his retelling of events and batted his hand down. "You weren't quite that bad, otherwise I wouldn't have stuck around to have a drink with you afterwards..or the next week or the week after that…"

"Yeah, somehow how I got her to go out on a date with me after a month or so, but I really scored when I got her to join our team," he teased, earning a roll of the eyes from her.

"OK, that's actually pretty cute," Maggie decided.

"It was," Michonne agreed quietly. She looked up at Siddiq and patted his arm then rested her head on his shoulder. He looked utterly proud to have won her favor.

"Well, I'm really glad you were able to come down," Maggie said. "It's going to be such a fun weekend. We've got some _cute _things of our own planned." She lowered her glasses and raised her own eyebrows in surprise, then turned to look back at Glenn who was upshore from them assembling a canopy. "Right baby?" she called out.

He looked up from the directions he was clutching tightly in both hands, trying to keep from blowing away, and smiled. "Right," he called back.

"Do you need help?"

"No, it's all good," he called back, letting go of one side to wave her off. The wind picked up the loose end and threatened to carry it away, causing him to scramble to get it back in his hand.

Maggie sighed, and pushed herself onto her knees. "I'm gonna go help."

Michonne nodded and watched her trudge through the hot, white sand to help, or rather, direct her boyfriend knowing her tendencies. She turned her attention away from the couple and looked up at her boyfriend who was wiping his brow beside her.

"You did great," she whispered.

He looked down at her and tilted his head. "I didn't seem nervous?"

"Just a little bit at the beginning."

"She's a little intense," he breathed out, tossing a glance over at Maggie who was standing there in her bikini, pointing and directing as Glenn assembled the canopy.

"She is," Michonne agreed, "but you made it out alive. And you already met Rosita and got her seal of approval which is no easy feat, so you're pretty much in."

"Your ex-boyfriend the cop is going to be here this weekend," he reminded her.

"Well, yeah, it's going to be a little weird, but he'll play nice."

Siddiq looked unconvinced.

"He will. Rick's not an asshole. He's not going to try to undermine you or pick a fight. I'd never date a guy like that," she swore, motioning toward him as evidence. She stood from the towel they shared and brushed the sand off the palms of her hands then held them out in front of him. "Come on. Let's go take a swim...cool down some," she suggested with a small smirk.

He reached up and grabbed hold of her hands, letting her assist him to his feet. Once he was there, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and they began to make their way toward the water.

* * *

Rick stepped out on the second floor veranda of the Greene family's St. Simon Island beach house and inhaled the salty, ocean air which was something he hadn't experienced much until he had made their daughter's acquaintance his freshman year of high school. As a born and raised Georgia boy from a working class family, summers were spent on the state's abundant lakeshores and riverbeds, not its elusive beachfront properties.

Being the last to arrive, he had already missed the first full day of the long weekend's festivities, though he had made it in time to catch the tail end of a beautiful sunset. The sky was painted shades of purple, pink and orange as the bright yellow orb sank closer and closer to the distant waterline. The day was ending, but not for his friends who were gathered on the stretch of beach before him. Music blared from a portable CD player. He recognized the song as _Yeah!_ which wasn't a testament to his coolness by any means, it was just that you simply couldn't go five minutes without hearing it on the radio, especially around A-Town as Usher called it.

Eugene was building a fire, Tara and Denise had already pulled some lounge chairs up to its edge, Glenn and Maggie were sitting at the water's edge holding hands and watching the sunset like something out of a damn romance movie, and Michonne and the new guy were goofing off on the other side of the fire. With red solo cups in hand, they were dancing with each other, singing along to the song, and very much enjoying themselves given the way they took turns breaking form to double over in laughter.

He felt like he was pumping himself up to jump into a cold pool, this was gonna burn at first, but he'd warm up eventually.

"You're late, Grimey."

He turned to see Rosita walking up behind him, her damp hair down and wavy, and wearing a red bikini top and a pair of cut off denim shorts.

"Got special permission from the boss lady since I had a shift today."

She laughed as she joined him against the rail. "That's more surprising than the big surprise."

He couldn't help but laugh himself at their long running joke ever since Maggie had notified them of "the big surprise" two months ago when she had requested, or rather mandated, their presence at the beach house for the Fourth of July, and then reminded them every time they spoke between. It was a given that Glenn would be proposing this weekend, the only surprise would be how, though they all expected it to come just prior to the fireworks display Eugene had been commissioned to create.

"What are you doing up here?" he asked.

"Came to get this…"

She pulled a plastic baggie of weed from her back pocket and dangled it in front of him.

"Ah," he breathed out wistfully. "There beer down there too?"

"Oh yeah. Plenty of it."

"Where's Abe? I thought he was coming."

"Fuck him," she spat back.

Her response took him off guard. Last he'd heard, all was good and he was going to be gracing them with his graceless, loud-mouthed, ginger presence.

"OK…"

"Asshole broke up with me by e-mail a last week," she informed him with a bitter laugh. "Left me for some fellow officer named Andrea. He said she 'understood him better,'" she mocked. "Because that's all that fucking matters, how _he_ feels…"

"I'm sorry."

"Well, I'm not." She turned toward him, leaning her side against the rail. "I found her MySpace page," she confessed. "The girl quoted lyrics from an Ashlee Simpson song for fuck's sake."

"I…" As a friend, he wanted to share in her perverse sense of satisfaction, but he was at a loss. "I don't know who that is."

"Exactly," she said with a smile. "Point is, she's not better than me. She's just there to stroke his fragile male ego and I'm not."

"Well, if that's what he wants, you weren't the one for him. You're not exactly the person I go to when I need my ego stroked," he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth causing her to crack a rare, full smile.

"See, I actually like you more than most people, Grimes, but you've held a complicated place in my best friend's life, so that complicated my feelings, too, obviously."

"Obviously," he agreed with a grin.

He looked back down at their friends, fire now blazing and providing light since the sun and its light had disappeared. Glenn and Maggie were walking back up from the water while Michonne and Siddiq's dancing had turned into an embrace. She stood there, her locs in a loose braid and her red and white floral sarong billowing around her, as she looked up into his eyes, smiling at whatever he was saying to her.

"So that's Siddiq?" he asked, nodding toward the tall, slender man whose arms were draped around his ex-girlfriend.

"That's Siddiq."

"They look happy."

"Yeah," she agreed, turning her attention to the couple in question. "He's a good guy. Nice, funny, smart as shit, killer dance moves…"

He glanced down to see her smirking, then clutched his chest at the obvious barb. "Damn, Rosie."

"I gotta be honest, Grimey."

"Thanks," he groused. "So you think he's the one?" He laughed it off like he was joking, though he was genuinely curious.

"I don't know...he's there," she shrugged. "I'm starting to feel like that matters more than anything else…"

She went quiet then sniffled, which caused him to look down to see her wiping a tear from her eye, another rarity for Rosita Espinosa.

"Come here," he said softly, opening his arms to her, because he honestly felt for her in that moment. "I'm sorry."

She reluctantly stepped in, her arms remaining at her sides as he gave her a hug. "I want to be angry at that prick, but I can't help it," she scoffed through the sniffles and tears she was trying to suck up. "I'm just so fucking sad right now."

"Trust me, I get it."

"It sucks," she decided as she unwrapped his arms from around her.

"It does."

"Whatever. I just want to have fun and forget about it this weekend. I already told Michonne not to let me get all mushy over it."

"Rick!"

They looked down to see Maggie waving both arms over her head to signal him to her location like she was lost at sea and waving down help or something causing Rosita to snicker as she wiped her tears.

"Uh oh. You've been spotted."

"Yeah," Rick said through the side of his smile as he waved back at Maggie. "Let's go."

The walked down the wooden stairs and through the row of sea oats that created a natural barrier between the backyard and the beach to find Maggie already there awaiting them while Glenn and the rest of their friends remained around the fire.

"Hey! " She threw her arms around him in a tight embrace. Rosita used that opportunity to slip past them and join the group. "Welcome, welcome! You ready for a fun weekend?" she asked as she took hold of his arm and led him down the beach. "We've got so much good stuff planned!"

"I am."

As they arrived, everyone casually called out their greetings since they had all seen each other a couple weeks ago for a barbecue at his place. All except for Michonne who was rising from her seat along with the new guy.

They met eyes, and she smiled. "Hey."

"Hey."

Then she shrugged, and held her arms out in front of him as if to say _What the hell, why not?_ And then he shrugged and nodded back as if to say _Sure, why not?_ and they exchanged a quick, friendly hug as was apparently their way of greeting each other now. As they pulled away from each other, she took a step back and motioned to the man with deep olive skin, a full head of wavy black hair, and a thick beard still dressed in his blue swim trunks with a grey University of Michigan t-shirt.

"This is Siddiq. Siddiq, this is Rick."

"Hey man," Rick said first, extending his hand out.

"Hey," Siddiq returned with a smile, while shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"You having fun so far?" Rick asked, still focused on Siddiq while Michonne stood by, observing their exchange.

"Yeah, definitely. It's my first time in Georgia, so I didn't really know what to expect."

"Oh yeah? Where you from?"

"Michigan," he said with a grin, nodding down at his shirt, "and now the city."

"Ah." Rick nodded, placing his hands on his hips as he did. "Well, it's gotta be nice to get out and breathe in some fresh air."

"It is. I miss that."

"So who's in?" Rosita asked, holding up the freshly packed bowl in her hand.

Denise, Eugene, Glenn, and Tara eagerly raised their hands, already in place around the fire. Michonne raised her hand, as well, and gently tugged on Siddiq's arm who then paused and looked back at Rick questioning if he was going to join them.

"Sorry, that's my cue to leave," he said, backing away from the group in the direction of the cooler to grab a beer and take a short walk.

"Why?"

"I'm applying to the FBI next year," he explained. "They have a pretty strict drug policy, and I don't want to take my chances with failing a drug test."

"Oh." Siddiq's eyes lit up. "You know, they actually did studies on secondhand smoke and drug testing. It doesn't show up in urine," he relayed with a smile. "It can show up in blood in trace amounts, but clears within twenty-four hours, and those aren't usually the tests employers use anyway. Came out of Johns Hopkins, so it's reliable data."

Rick stood their with his lips slightly parted and glanced over at Michonne who grinned back at him.

"Why do you know that?" he asked.

"I start clinical rotations this month and I'm subject to random drug tests," he explained. "Figured I should probably look into that."

"Right," Rick chuckled. "Want a beer then?"

"Sure."

Rick grabbed two bottles from the cooler and passed one to the new guy, nodding his thanks again for the helpful information. Siddiq followed Michonne over to the empty chairs next to Glenn and Maggie while Rick took the empty seat next to Rosita.

He sipped on his beer and watched the little pink glass pipe make its way around the circle, his friends puffing and giggling while a Jack Johnson CD played on loop. They were all enjoying their one night to let loose before the Greene family and other friends and relatives descended upon the beach house for the Fourth of July party tomorrow.

Time kept passing and everyone's life kept moving along, including his. He didn't think about her all that often anymore, except for the few weeks before their occasional meetings. She would slip back into his thoughts, and he would remember the good times they had, which there were many. He'd find himself passing up the breakroom donuts and hitting the gym a little harder in anticipation of seeing her again. It wasn't even a conscious thing because he certainly had no plans of acting on any feelings or pursuing anything. And as soon as the meeting passed, he would go right back to his life…

"Shit."

He looked up to see Rosita turning her head away from the big plume of smoke in front of her, coughing and holding the pipe out for Eugene to take from her.

"Easy there, champ. Here," he passed her his beer and reached up and clapped his hand against her back until she recovered.

She took another sip then passed the bottle back to him and coughed out a thank you.

He waived her off since it was no problem at all, then looked across the fire and watched Michonne and Siddiq quietly laughing among themselves as she waited for her turn. He very well could be the one for her. A future doctor, and an admittedly handsome guy who played well with her friends. It could be worse. Much worse.

There would always be something about her for him, and he would just have to accept that. It didn't even necessarily mean anything, nor could it mean anything. She was there, he was here, and life would just keep moving on.

* * *

Michonne rolled out of bed carefully as not to wake Siddiq, then slipped on her navy blue gym shorts and Siddiq's U of M t-shirt, and quietly made her way out of the room they were sharing, down the hall, and out to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

She didn't expect to find the light on, nor to find the sliding glass door open and see Rick standing on the veranda in just his jeans, looking out towards the ocean. She smiled to herself; she had to admit that it wasn't just a surprise, it was a pleasant surprise to find him of all people. She couldn't help it, she still felt a little thrill in her chest when she saw him and relished the thought of getting to share a few minutes alone with him.

She padded closer, planning to sneak up on him and say hello until she saw him pull his phone from his back pocket, press a few buttons, then hold it out to his side as it began to ring. She stilled just in front of the open doors.

"Hey," a woman's voice answered.

"Hey, I was just callin' to check up on you."

"Don't lie, Grimes."

"I'm not." She could hear the smile in his voice though his back was to her. "I was thinking about you and feeling bad for leaving you with Walsh and the guys this weekend."

"Mmm hmm. Well, I'm actually just leaving his place now. It truly scares me that these are King County's finest."

The sarcastic quip from the woman on the other side of the line had caused him to full out laugh this time. Michonne smiled, as well, though she was listening in on some joke she was not a part of.

"I was actually just going to call to tell you not to be surprised if you come back to find they've burned the whole damn town down with the private fireworks display they have planned."

She was sarcastic which Michonne appreciated. She sounded like a woman she would be friends with, she sound a lot like her actually.

"Jesus," he sighed. She watched him bring his hand up to his face as she shook his head. "Will you at least take my girl with you when you make your escape?"

Michonne wrinkled her nose curiously. _Girl_?

"Don't worry, I've got her."

"Thank you."

"So how's the beach?"

"So far, so good."

"Well, we miss you around here. You being gone was enough to tip the scales back to stupid."

"I'm sorry to leave you hangin' like that...what do you say you and me have a stupid-free night when I get back then?"

After a long pause, the woman finally answered. "I'd like that."

Michonne could hear the smile in her voice.

"OK."

And then in his.

She felt a small pang in her chest which she had absolutely no right to, not since she had let go of him and especially not since she moved on. It was irrational, but it was there nonetheless. She wondered if it always would be.

"Well, I'm pulling up to my place now, and I've got an early morning…"

"Yeah, OK. Give Dolly a kiss for me."

"I'll give her a pat on the head."

"OK, then," he chuckled. "Good night, Sasha."

"Good night."

He flipped his phone closed then spun around, the smile on his face fading as soon as he caught sight of her standing there in the kitchen looking at him.

"Hey," she offered weakly.

"Hey," he said as he put his phone in his pocket and headed back inside.

"I just came down to get some water," she explained.

"So did I...been thinkin' about that strawberry icebox cake, though."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, her eyes wide with intrigue. "You know I'm down if you want to go halfsies on a slice."

That used to be their thing. She'd talk him into splitting dessert and end up eating much more than half of it. The was he was grinning at her, she knew he remembered.

"Let's do it."

She grinned back then went to the fridge. First she plucked out two bottles of water, then she pulled out the pan out of the fridge, cut out a generous square for the two of them and placed it on one of the paper plates sitting on the counter. She put the cake back and grabbed two forks, then sat down on the bar stool across from him, slid the cake between them, and passed over his fork. Neither wasted anytime taking their first bite, followed by a quick second.

She slowly pulled her fork out of her mouth, savoring the whipped cream stuck to it's prongs as she watched him dig in for a third bite.

"So who's Dolly?" she asked, idly twirling her fork between her fingers.

He looked up and covered his full mouth with his hand. "My bloodhound."

She gasped, knowing that he had always talked about having his own hunting dog like the ones he had grown up with.

"Yeah, she failed out of K9 training academy for being too much of a social butterfly, and they needed someone to take her."

"Oh no." She hid behind her hands to shield herself from the unbearable sweetness. "That's too cute."

"She's too cute," he corrected, grinning like a proud papa. "My friend from the fire department had to work this weekend, so she's watching her for me."

Michonne pressed her lips together and nodded cooly as went for another bite of cake while putting it all together. His firefighting friend named Sasha that he entrusted his precious dog with, and who, she was pretty sure, he just asked out on a date. It all sounded too cute for her to handle, as well.

"You should have brought her, you know, the dog," she clarified. "I would have loved some puppy time. I'd give anything to have one."

"Then why don't you?" he asked.

"It wouldn't be fair to a dog," she answered, shaking her head. "I'm barely home, I've got a tiny studio, no yard…it's a post-graduation goal."

"So dog then job," he teased.

"Yeah," she laughed. "I've totally got my priorities straight."

"Hey guys."

They turned to see Glenn shuffling into the kitchen, fully dressed in his Braves cap, white-t, jeans, and sneakers.

"Hey," Rick greeted. "What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep," he said as he leaned against the island where they were seated.

"The big surprise weighing heavy on your mind?" Michonne asked with a big wink.

"Actually, yeah," he said quietly, giving her pause.

"I'm sure it will go off without a hitch," she assured him. "Just remember, Maggie's got everything under control even if you don't."

"Yeah," he shrugged humorlessly before looking down at the floor.

Michonne glanced over at Rick, lifting a brow to ask if there was something going on that she didn't know about. He subtly shook his head before glancing back at their friend.

"I have a question for you two…" He looked up and met their eyes again. "How did you know?"

"Know what?" Rick asked.

"That you weren't the ones for each other?"

Rick turned to her wordlessly. He was punting, and she supposed she was obligated to answer as the one who had called it off.

"Well," she started slowly, not quite sure how to answer him. "It's not that we weren't the ones for each other-"

Rick leaned forward with interest as she pressed her lips together. Damn her subconscious for betraying her like that.

"I mean, it was more of a timing thing."

Rick slowly nodded at her and shifted his gaze to Glenn. "Is everything OK?"

"I mean, nothing's _wrong_," Glenn explained before sighing and looking towards the bedroom where his girlfriend was sleeping. "It's just," he started in a near whisper, "ever since we got together, all everyone has ever told me is how good Maggie is for _me_. It never goes the other way. Sometimes it feels like it's her world and I'm just living in it...and I'm not sure I want that to be my life."

Michonne did her best to keep her concern off of her face and out of her voice. "But you love Maggie and she loves you. Who cares what people think."

"She's the only one I've ever been with," he admitted. "I mean, how do I really know? How does _she_ really know? She wants to be in love, she wants the wedding and the house and the kids and the whole thing, and she needs someone to do that with...I don't know," he said shaking his head in frustration. "How can I explain it when I'm not even sure what it is...please don't say anything to Maggie."

They both shook their heads, giving him their promise.

"I'm sorry about this...I'm gonna go take a walk."

He stepped away from the island and began to walk toward the door. Michonne looked to Rick with concern, imploring him to do something because it was Glenn of all people. Out of all of them, even Denise, he was the one never to draw attention upon himself or cause drama. He was just the kind, mellow guy who was always there for you in his own quiet way.

"Glenn, wait," Rick called out as he stood from his seat. Glenn turned to look back over his shoulder. "Have you talked to her about this?"

"Not really."

"Well, I don't know what the answer is, but speaking from experience, I do know that you need to sit down with her, open up, as hard as that may seem, and have an honest conversation. With everything you've been through together, you owe it to each other."

Glenn nodded and headed for the door leaving Rick and Michonne silent as they felt the burden of the secret he had just shared with them. Even the most perfect-seeming couple wasn't without their flaws. It always seemed to work because Maggie had opinions about everything and Glenn didn't. They were one of those yin-yang couples, perfectly complementary due to their opposite nature versus their similarities. It was not what Michonne looked for in a relationship, but that was her preference, not the law.

"At least it didn't happen at the altar," Rick pointed out, finally breaking their silence.

She shook her head in disbelief. "I always thought it was strange that he hadn't proposed yet. I was surprised Denise and Tara beat them to the altar."

"I know he's been saving up for a ring for a long time. Maggie had some very specific requests."

"I'm sure she did...it just worries me that came to us asking how to know it's wrong instead of going to Denise and Tara and asking how you know it's right. It kinda feels like he's got his mind made up, you know?"

"And if he does, we'll support him, _them_," he corrected, "no matter what."

"Of course we will," she agreed. "It won't be pretty, though. Maggie will lose it."

"Yeah, but like I said, better now than after a marriage and a few kids."

"Like my parents?" she challenged.

He frowned. "That's not at all what I meant. I was just speaking in broader terms."

"I know," she grinned, though it was short-lasted. "You think they should go through with it?"

"I don't even want to go there. Everytime I think I have things figured out, I realize I don't know shit about relationships."

Michonne tilted her head. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He looked her in the eye, opened his mouth to speak, then closed his lips and shook his head like he thought better of it. She had a guess as to what he might have said. Perhaps, how can you say that we were meant to be together, but timing got in the way? They hadn't even tried. Was that really how you treated such a rare and special thing?

"We're going to be carrying a big secret around tomorrow," he said finally.

"Yeah, I guess we are," she sighed as she picked up her fork and poked it around the small chunk of cake left.

He shrugged at her glum assessment and picked up his fork to help her polish the cake off. "At least we'll be in it together," he said.

* * *

The tables were lined with newspaper, only damp spots in the center, bottles of hot sauce, empty cracker sleeves, and the rare potato wedge or abandoned shrimp was left from the Greene Family's annual low country boil. Rick and Michonne sat quietly at one end of the table while Siddiq, Rosita, Eugene, Tara, and Denise were shouting over the music and noise from neighboring tables, trying to one up each other with their best Napoleon Dynamite impressions. At the opposite end of the table sat Maggie and Glenn and things were looking normal by all outward appearances, Glenn sipping on a beer while Maggie's eyes darted around the tent, keeping tabs on the guests' comings and goings.

Neither Rick nor Michonne had heard a peep from either of them one way or the other during the day, and they had made it a point to check in with each other several times throughout the day. They watched as Maggie turned to Glenn and tapped her watch. He stood and took her hand, leading her away from the group while she protested. Eventually they disappeared behind some some bluffs. Michonne turned to Rick and shared a concerned look.

"OK, folks, t-minus four minutes and thirty-eight seconds until the biggest pyrotechnic display ever to grace the skies of St. Simon's Island," Eugene announced to his captive audience. "And spoiler alert: it is a six minute and fifty-one second epic odyssey of explosives perfectly synchronized to a custom soundtrack requested by Ms. Maggie Greene of which I am sworn to secrecy about."

"So you've done this before?" Siddiq asked.

Rosita scoffed loudly at his naivete while Tara and Denise laughed quietly among themselves.

"Virtually speaking, yes," Eugene informed him. "Now, if I had my way, and I do and I will, this would be set to an entirely different soundtrack."

"Which is?" Denise asked.

"Beastie Boys _Intergalactic_ as the opener and _Sabotage_ for the explosive finish."

"Hmm." Tara tilted her head, actually intrigued by this idea unlike so many of his others.

"That's badass," Siddiq decided, looking back at Michonne to share his excitement. She nodded absently.

"I know," Eugene said. "I do have personal listening devices available for those who would like to partake in my vision on the downlow. We should beat feet, though. Time's a tickin'," he informed them, pointing to his digital Casio watch.

Michonne turned her head finally, as she caught him standing out of the corner of her eye.

"Eugene, maybe you should wait until Maggie and Glenn get back."

"No, ma'am. I have sworn to adhere to her schedule."

"Just wait," Rick demanded.

"This is not your jurisdiction, Deputy." He looked to his friends, old and new. "Shall we?"

Siddiq looked back at Michonne for permission to join the gang, and she nodded. "Go ahead."

The group left leaving Rick and Michonne alone at their table in the middle of all of Glenn and Maggie's relatives. Rick looked again for the couple who were nowhere to be seen then leaned across the table.

"I thought he would have talked to her last night or this morning," Rick whispered.

"I know," she whispered back. "It's not your fault. It was good advice."

After a few minutes, the music playing under the tent came to an abrupt stop, and Eugene's voice came through summoning everyone out for the fireworks display. The guests cleared the tent and filed out onto the beach with Rick and Michonne reluctantly following behind them. She saw Doc and Mrs. Greene with their arms around each other's waists, smiling and chatting with the Rhee's as they awaited the big moment. Everyone in attendance knew exactly why they were there which made this all the more nerve wracking.

At nine o'clock on the dot, the first flare went up in the sky as the music started...and Glenn and Maggie were still nowhere in sight. It wasn't until _From This Moment On_ faded into _A Moment Like This _that people began to whisper and look around for the couple. Their friends not included, of course, as they all stood clustered down the beach, trying to act all nonchalant with their headphones, as they reacted with a wonder no one else was experiencing at the non-lowdown show.

Had things gone as planned, Glenn would have been down on one knee on the beach under a sky ablaze with fireworks, proposing to her in front of their nearest and dearest to the tune of a Kelly Clarkson song. Despite the sick feeling in her stomach, Michonne couldn't help but laugh at the thought. It wasn't her scene, and not Rick's, nor Glenn's for sure. She went up on her tiptoes and leaned into his side.

"This is so Maggie," she whispered.

"I was just thinking the same thing," he laughed.

Soon enough, the sky went dark again and the music faded away, and in their periphery, they noticed some activity in the crowd. Maggie, with her left hand extended in front of her and a smiling Glenn beside her, were standing with their parents. Michonne looked up at Rick and smiled, then waved as the bride-to-be looked over and caught her eye.

She kissed her parents, promising them she would be right back, then grabbed Glenn's hand and walked over to them excitedly.

"We did it," she announced.

Michonne took her hand to pay homage to the ring as it seemed like the thing to do while Rick wrapped his arm around Glenn's shoulder. He met his friend's eyes, quietly asking if all was well, and got a firm nod and smile back.

"Well, congratulations," he said as he wrapped his arms around him.

"Yeah, congrats, you guys," Michonne added as she pulled Maggie into a hug.

"It wasn't at all how I had imagined it, but it was perfect," Maggie marveled as they let go of each other. "I'm still shaking."

Glenn chuckled at his fiancee's excitement despite this being years in the making and a major deviation from her plans. Maybe one day they would share their story, but not tonight.

Rick smiled down at them, then glanced down at Michonne who was doing the same beside him.

"Well, we're happy for you."

"We are," she agreed.

"So you two will be there to stand beside us next September, right?" Glenn asked hopefully.

They glanced up and each other and he shrugged then she did, causing them both to chuckle at the use of their new signature move.

"Yeah," Rick nodded as she looked back at couple. "We will."

"Yay!" Maggie gave them each another hug. "OK, sorry, we have to make the rounds."

"Of course. Go!" Michonne laughed, shooing them away as more people gathered around them awaiting their audience with couple.

Maggie was already turned and moving them along, but Glenn paused and looked back for a moment.

"Thank you," he mouthed in their direction.

Rick smiled back while Michonne blew a sweet kiss in his direction. Once they were alone again, Michonne leaned into him and let out a heavy sigh of relief.

"Oh my God, Rick. You have no idea-"

He slung his arm around her shoulder and laughed as he gave her a squeeze.

"I do," he sighed. "I do."

"I'd say champagne is in order."

"Yes," he agreed emphatically, causing her to laugh.

They turned and headed up to the house to look for a bottle, then heard the eruption of their friends' cheers behind them as they must have been receiving the newly engaged couple, he looked down at her and smiled then continued walking, but she tugged at his arm and pointed in the opposite direction. Champagne could wait, they had more important places to be.


	6. Chapter 6

AN:Hey y'all! I'm sorry for the delay, I took a little break and I forgot how long this chapter was when I went through to polish it up and rework it. Last chapter definitely brought up some feelings, and I agree, it was a tough one. I said it Chapter 1, but I'll say it again, this story is break up to make up. They're young, and they have a lot to learn about love, life, and themselves, so this is really about the journey of how they find their way back to each other (I won't tease and say _if_ since this is romance and the HEA is guaranteed). There will be tough times ahead, but I think you'll enjoy the next few chapters. If not, I'm sorry! This one may be best to read when it's all done for some people. Thank you all for reading and sending comments and keeping my honest. ;)

**Chapter 6**

**Wedding**

_October 2004_

Rick tucked a finger inside the starched collar of his white oxford shirt and gave a good tug, hoping to feel some cool fall air on his skin. Never let them see you sweat-he was his father's son in that regard. He inherited that steady, calm exterior that often brought people to say that he was "laid-back" or "not a very emotional guy." If only they could hear the constant noise in his head, though, that illusion would be shattered.

It wasn't nerves over being the best man or that fact that this wedding had been thrown together in less than a month, or that the pregnant bride was currently staring a hole straight through him from the altar, or that the maid of honor was on him like Velcro, or even that said maid of honor was the bride's kid sister who had always had a little crush on him that was growing more and more uncomfortable by the year now that she was sixteen. No, all of that was just background noise because _she_ was arriving any minute now and it was all he could think about.

"No, no. This looks awful," Maggie announced before finally peeling her eyes away from him. "We're going by height because, let's be honest, pictures last forever, and you only get one shot at them, so they better be perfect."

Glenn tried to intercede, but he was quieted by the bride's hand and firm shake of the head. Denise and Tara shared a small look, then glanced back at Rick, shaking their heads. Being in the wedding party was an honor...and a tremendous pain in the ass.

"So Bethie and Eugene," she announced.

Rick's shoulder nearly popped out of its socket as Beth jerked it, pouting and stomping in place in protest. Maggie's stern look quickly put a stop to it, though, and she finally released her grip on him. He shook his now free arm as he watched her slink towards a beaming Eugene with her arms crossed.

"Oh God help us," Tara mumbled under her breath.

"Then Tara and Denise, and Rick and Michonne."

Rick nodded dutifully while he thanked his lucky stars for this change of plans. He had always been more of a back row guy anyway, so this suited him just fine.

Maggie frowned at the incomplete lineup. "She was supposed to be here by now. If she's not going to make it, I'm sorry Rick, but you're out."

"Relax. She texted me when she landed," Denise explained on her behalf. "She's probably just stuck in traffic."

"OK then." Maggie nodded. "Everybody go ahead and get in place. Rick, I'm holding you responsible for getting Michonne up to speed."

It would be his pleasure, actually. He saluted Maggie then looked behind him. _If only she'd get here already. _Per usual, she'd been on his mind the past few weeks, and yes, he had been given a heads up from Denise that she'd be bringing her boyfriend, but he was still looking forward to seeing her, and now he knew they'd be guaranteed at least a few minutes alone as they carried out their duties together.

Maggie paced the aisle between the rows of white folding chairs already set up in her parents' backyard, scribbling on a clipboard while calling out names and places. Priest to gazebo. Groom and Eugene to his right. Denise and Tara go. Slower…slooower...stop!

Rick dropped his head and covered his mouth with his hand while he laughed. He respected law and order, but Maggie took it to a new level, and he wasn't about to risk a run in with her.

"Hey."

Rick wiped the smile off his face and looked up to see Michonne at his side. There she was looking smart in jeans and a fitted black turtleneck sweater, and bright red lips framing her big smile.

"Hey yourself. Long time, no see."

"Right?"

Without thinking, he opened his arms to hug her just as she did the same, forgoing their standard awkward dance. They usually did the quick back pat and part, so when he felt her arms tighten across his back and his chest meet hers, he was caught off guard, but he went with it. He closed his eyes as her chin rested on his shoulder and listened to her take a deep breath in and let it out before she began to pull away. He let his eyes stay shut for just a moment longer, and when he opened them, Beth was staring back at him looking like he'd just betrayed her then kicked her puppy dog just to be a jerk. Now he had two things to feel guilty about: the poor kid's feelings and how much he enjoyed that hug.

He straightened and cleared his throat as they pulled away and faced forward. "How was your trip?" he asked.

"Flight was fine, but traffic keeps getting worse every time I come back home," she sighed. "So what did I miss?"

"Not much. She just decided to pair us all up by height, so it's you and me now."

She glanced up at him and arched a brow, then leaned in closer. "You and me, huh? You sure it's height and not because she wants our bad juju as far away from them as possible?" she whispered.

He huffed out a laugh and shook his head. "Could be…"

"OK, then the next pair starts walking," Maggie announced.

They put their conversation on hold and he grandly offered his arm to her and she accepted with a flourish, being very obvious that they were just playing their roles today. As they started down the aisle, slow and steady, it wasn't lost on him that this could have been very real for them. As everyone watched them, he could well have been in a back tux and her in a white dress, both of them smiling and nodding at the people they knew.

Maggie finally looked up from her clipboard to see the pair was now complete and smiled as they neared her, then interrupted their walk down the aisle for a quick hug and kiss. Once they arrived at the steps of the gazebo, they shared a grin, then unlinked arms and took their spots on their respective sides.

"OK, then the maid of honor," Maggie said, waving Beth down the aisle.

Beth made her solo entrance, smiling at her sister as she passed her going the opposite direction down the aisle to take her spot. Once Beth reached the gazebo she snubbed Eugene's offer to help her to her place, gave Rick a look again and spun into her spot, her long blonde hair flicking Michonne in the face. He wasn't sure if that was on purpose or not, but Michonne didn't seem to care.

"Then cue the music," Maggie called out. She hummed the opening of Wagner's Bridal Chorus to set the scene. "Dun dun dun-dun…"

"Dunna dunna dunna dunna," Eugene joined in, humming the slow, ominous opening of the _Jaws_.

"Oh no," Tara fretted behind him as she grabbed his shoulder to stop him, only it was too late.

"Eugene!" Maggie yelled out once she heard him.

He stopped his humming, then giggled quietly to himself like a school boy. He looked around for someone to share his laughter with, but all of his friends were averting their gaze, not wanting to be associated with his bad behavior...although they were all laughing on the inside.

Maggie shook her head, then took a deep breath and reached for her father's arm.

She had to be questioning whether it was worth putting him of all people front and center at her wedding for the sake of symmetry. "And then we go, Daddy," she said sweetly.

They shared a smile, and he took her arm in his, and they began to march down the aisle.

* * *

Michonne watched Maggie and Doc Greene make their way down the aisle. She was trying to make up for being late by giving the rehearsal her utmost attention, but she was absolutely dying to get this over with and catch up with her friends. She snuck another look at Rick across the aisle, looking so cool in his pressed white shirt and jeans. It was funny seeing him stand at the altar, smiling down the aisle at the bride, like a preview of his own wedding with Sasha or whomever someday...or perhaps a glimpse of another reality where he was waiting for her to meet him at the altar. That thought had certainly crossed her mind already while they walked down the aisle together. She hadn't expected to be paired with him, in fact it seemed like friend code not to pair exes, but they were mature adults now. They could handle it.

A weight on Michonne's shoulder stole her attention. She turned her head to find Denise's chin resting there. "I missed you, friend," she whispered.

Michonne smiled and rested her head against Denise's in lieu of a hug. "I missed you, too."

"I guess we have Baby Rhee to thank for getting you down here sooner than expected."

Michonne laughed quietly. "Yeah, their little surprise is just full of surprises for all of us. How's Maggie been?"

"Bridezilla meets Momzilla meets Magzilla."

Michonne stifled her laugh and swatted her friend away. "You're bad."

"It's nothing we haven't teased her about to her face, and she fully embraces it," Denise defended. "Honestly, she's been fine, though. I think we all lucked out with them having a shotgun wedding. Can you imagine how it would have been otherwise?"

Michonne shook her head. She honestly couldn't seeing as how she was living off student loans. She had no idea how she was going to pull off the bachelorette trip to the Bahamas, two showers, and the freaking Vera Wang bridesmaid gown she had originally planned for.

"Where's Siddiq?"

"Uh, he flies in tomorrow morning. He's on an ER rotation right now, so his hours are all over the place," she explained.

"Good," Denise nodded. "I mean, Rick's a tough act to follow, but we like having him around. He's a keeper."

Michonne opened her mouth to answer, then sighed and shook her head, deciding it was neither the time or the place to get into their complicated relationship status. "Yeah," she said simply.

"Ladies?"

They looked up to see the bride's eyes focused on them.

"Sorry," Denise called out on their behalf. "Damn," she muttered once Maggie's attention was turned away.

"OK, then Father Gabriel will do his welcome, Rosita will come up to do a reading, we'll exchange vows, then rings, then kiss, then everyone will cheer, and we'll walk down the aisle."

She linked arms with Glenn and took a few steps down the aisle before pulling off into the second row to supervise. Maggie watched as Eugene and Beth met in the center. He offered his arm with a bit too much flare for Maggie's liking, and her sister reluctantly accepted, then they began to walk. Beth seemed to be veering off to one side, placing distance between them, while he walked down the aisle with the most perfect posture, nodding and waving to the imaginary guests as he passed.

"Eugene," Maggie snapped. "You are not the Queen of England. Just walk like a normal human being."

He frowned and dropped his hand and slumped over into his typical poor posture and shuffled down the they were halfway, Denise and Tara met in the middle and began their exit. Michonne looked over at Rick and nodded, cuing him to walk toward the center to join one her.

"Hello again," she said as they met.

He grinned back and held out his arm. "Shall we?"

She accepted by placing her arm around his, then they both turned and once they saw Tara and Denise make it to the halfway mark, they began their exit, walking side by side, glancing at each other to smile occasionally while looking out upon the imaginary guests.

Maggie smiled. "See, Eugene!" she called out, waving for his attention. "Look at Rick and Michonne. That's how you do it. Beautiful, you two," she said as they passed her.

Michonne found herself patting his forearm at their accolades, high praise from the most particular person she knew, but it was also haunting, picturing another time where maybe Maggie would have run the show for them, the picture perfect couple. She chastised herself for being so silly, and instead focused on not breaking their perfect form until they neared the end, but their friends were making it hard.

"Oh, look at Rick and Michonne!" Tara teased, fawning all over them once they reached the end of the aisle. "So perfect. So amazing."

Michonne rolled her eyes and laughed off the attention as she and Rick passed by them.

"OK, everybody get in your places," Maggie directed. "If you can get through this without any mistakes, then you get to eat."

"Maggie," Glenn whispered beside her, giving her a look. She glanced at him, noticing his disapproval, then it registered that maybe that didn't sound so nice.

"Right," she breathed out, a small smile forming on her lips. "I didn't mean it like that y'all."

Michonne felt a tug on her arm and looked down to see that she and Rick were still standing there with their arms linked.

"Remember how much fun we had at their wedding?" he whispered, nodding to Denise and Tara ahead of them.

She grinned. "Yeah."

"I don't imagine that happening this time."

"No," she huffed out quietly, "Not a chance."

* * *

After dinner, the bridal party moved onto the old barn on the edge of the Greene's property that would serve as the reception site. Michonne and the ladies were busy setting tables and assembling centerpieces while the guys worked up in the haylofts, stringing white lights from side to side.

"Alright, how's it look?" Rick called out from above. He plugged the two ends of the extension cord together, illuminating the barn with the soft glow of twinkling lights.

"Ahhh, I love it!" Maggie squealed

"Wow," Tara gasped, head leaned back as she looked upward. "I really couldn't see it, but you pulled it off. Who knew a barn could be so romantic?"

"Rick and Michonne did," Maggie chirped as she carried on strategically placing more greenery in the vases of blush antique roses.

Michonne dropped the napkin she was folding and looked up at Rick who zipped his lips shut with his fingers.

"Excuse me?" Michonne challenged, even though she knew exactly what Maggie was talking about. She just didn't think anyone else knew.

"Oh come on, Michonne."

"What happened?" Tara asked curiously.

"Daddy caught you two up in the hayloft after a cookout one night, and he was too embarrassed to say anything to you, so instead I got a big lecture forbidding me to go to the barn with boys at night, or anywhere for that matter."

Michonne crumbled into the seat and buried her face in the napkin she was holding. She could hear everyone in the barn laughing and couldn't bear to look. After her initial flush subsided, she peeked up at Rick who was just sitting on said hayloft looking like it was no big deal. But _was _a big deal. It was _Doc Greene_! It was honestly worse than her own father finding them, though that wasn't saying much.

"Oh come on, y'all!" she laughed. "That was a long time ago. I thought you'd think it was funny. Forget I even said anything."

"How do you expect me to be able to look him in the eye tomorrow?" Michonne asked.

"Same as you have been all these years." Maggie supposed.

She shrugged and went on her way leaving Michonne sitting there still mortified. Rick unplugged the lights and climbed down the ladder and made his way over to her side.

"What can I help with now?" he asked, hands on his hips while he surveyed the tables and decorations.

"I think we're set," Maggie said after giving it once over. "I say we call it a night, and get some sleep before tomorrow."

They all looked at each other, surprised at being let off the hook at such an early hour, by their perfectionist bride.

"Yeah, sounds good to us," Tara answered on her, Denise, and Eugene's behalf, anxious to hit the road before she could change her mind.

As they readied to go their separate ways, Maggie came over to Michonne and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "You can go on up the the house. The room next to mine is all set up for you. I'm just gonna go back to our place with Glenn for a bit."

"Maggie," Michonne hissed, picking up on the mischief in her eyes. "It's your wedding night. It's bad luck."

She looked down at her stomach and laughed. "Oh honey, we're past that."

Michonne relented, like she had any other choice with Maggie, then waved she and Glenn off as they rushed out like two high school kids up against a curfew.

And then there were two. Rick and Michonne. Us. We. There seemed to be a lot of that going on still despite not being a real couple for over three years now. Maybe that was just part of the deal. They were forever linked now.

She turned to see him there holding his keys and shook her head at him.

"What?" he asked. The way the end of his lip was curling, she knew he knew he was about to get it.

She stood and walked closer to him. "I will never forgive you for that."

"And I will always remember that," he said so solemnly, bringing his hand to his heart. "One of the best nights of my life. To this day."

She tried to hang onto her outrage, but lost it when he finally cracked and began to laugh.

"It's not," she said through laughter as she pushed his chest, " funny." She pushed him again for effect. "Not funny, Rick!"

He caught her hand and pinned it to his chest before she could push him again. He didn't say anything, he just tilted his head and looked at her so sincerely with those blue eyes which took the air out of her lungs and rendered her silent.

"I'm sorry I made light of this. I wish he hadn't found out either, but I can't go back in time and do anything about it now."

And being an adult, she was fully aware of this, but appreciated the sentiment anyway. "I know...but you do owe me," she said, poking their clasped hands square into his chest.

"I do," he admitted.

She had no idea what that would be, but she supposed that having a favor on call from Rick Grimes wasn't the worst thing in the world. He was a man of many talents that she was sure had only grown in the past few years. She squeezed, then released his hand, letting it fall to his side.

"Deal."

"Deal," he agreed.

They stood there for a moment in that barn of memories, not sure quite what to do or say now.

"Well, I," she started pointing vaguely back toward the house.

"Yeah, I've gotta go let Dolly out," he said as simultaneously as nodded toward his truck.

Michonne's eyes went wide. "_The_ Dolly?" she squeaked out.

"Yeah. The one and only...you wanna meet her?" he asked.

"Um, yes," she blurted out.

"OK, then," he said with a smile. "I can drive you back when we're done."

* * *

"Dolly?"

Rick stood in the middle of his living room for a few seconds, then shook his head when his dog didn't appear at his command.

"She doesn't listen so well," he explained. "Probably sacked out on my bed. I'm gonna go find her and let her out. Make yourself at home."

"OK," she nodded.

She watched him turn and bound up the stairs of his townhome, calling the dog's name to no avail. She laughed quietly to herself then put her hands on her hips and took a good look around. It was still a sparsely furnished bachelor pad, but certainly nicer than the one he had in college. The kitchen was bigger, with up to date stainless steel appliances, and the cheap linoleum flooring in his last place was now upgraded with less cheap faux wood flooring. His futon was replaced by a proper couch and he had matching dark wood coffee and end tables that were new to her, as well.

She smiled and walked over to the mismatched back entertainment center which was one thing she did recognize from his old place. Behind the glass doors, she found the same old stereo system he had in college. She opened it and found her attention drawn to the small stack of CD's next to it.

She ran her finger over the jewel cases, picking up dust on her finger, as she read the titles from top to bottom: Foo Fighters, Hootie and the Blowfish, Tim McGraw, Dave Matthews Band, and Coldplay. Her smile faded as she reached the last one, she pulled it from the stack, and studied the cover, then closed her eyes tightly as if it would help her unsee the memory it had conjured in her mind. That memory of that last night at his place was still as clear as could be years later.

She heard the pounding of footsteps rushing down the stairs that were then replaced by the scratching and and clicking of paws and nails against the floors. The tall, gangly hound came bounding toward her, as if she was an old friend, and excitedly twirled in front of her then leaned her side against Michonne's legs to present herself for petting. She chuckled as she leaned down to say hello and smooth her hand over the dog's smooth brown and black coat, which caused her to relax and lean in harder.

Rick trailed behind her and laughed as he saw that they had already made their acquaintance. "This is Dolly," he said nonetheless.

"Yeah, we go way back," Michonne said.

He grinned as he watched her continue to lavish his dog with affection for a few moments, then his eyes were drawn to the CD in her hand. She followed his gaze and held it up for him to see.

"I haven't listened to this in years," she said of the Coldplay CD.

"Neither have I. You can put it on," he said with a casual shrug before turning to head for the kitchen.

His movement, particularly to the room which held food, caught Dolly's attention, and she trotted after her dad, hoping he would share whatever he was going for. Michonne smiled at the two then turned and loaded the CD into the player and hit shuffle.

"Want one?" he asked from the fridge, holding up a bottle of water.

"Yes, please."

She walked over to the couch and took a spot at one end while he made a quick detour to grab a couple of treats for Dolly from a jar on the counter.

He tossed her the treats which she deftly caught in the air then walked over to the couch and took his seat then patted the cushion next to him. She jumped up to the empty space between them and wasted no time maneuvering her body between the two of them, ending up on her side with her head in Michonne's lap and her back end wedged against her father's legs. She shared a laugh with Rick over her shameless behavior and accepted the bottle of water from him then leaned back and ran her fingers over the dog's velvety soft, floppy ears. There was something so relaxing about all of this.

She glanced over at Rick who had his hand on Dolly's side and feet propped on his coffee table, looking just as relaxed as she was.

"I could use this in my life."

"Yeah, it's pretty great coming home to her every night," he agreed. "This is our routine."

"Well, thanks for letting me crash it," she grinned.

"She doesn't seem to mind," he said with a nod towards his dog whose eyes were now closed and floppy jowls slack around her mouth.

"No, she doesn't," she chuckled. She took in a deep breath and relaxed into the couch. "So how's life?"

"Fine. Work is...work. Just counting down the days until I can send off my application."

"So sheriff deputy is _not _your calling?" she asked.

"No," he confirmed with a dry laugh.

"God, it seems like you've been at this forever…"

"Feels like it, too. And the whole application process is going to take about a year to complete. You've got to go through interviews, tests, background checks...in the meantime, I'm working out and practicing my shooting so I'm ready for the physical fitness portion. I'd hate to screw that up after all this time."

She glanced down at his body, which continued to look better each time she saw him. He had been looking more and more..._fit_ each time she had seen him lately, though she decided it was best to just nod in response. She had to glance away and bite down on the grin that had developed on her lips. "So once you get accepted, because I know you will, what happens after that?"

"_If _you get accepted," he said, knocking on the wood coffee table next to him, "you get two to four weeks notice letting you know when to report to Quantico, then it's twenty-one weeks of training, and then they place you in one of their field offices."

"You don't get to choose?"

"No. You can state your preference, but ultimately, it's not your decision. Could be Atlanta, Buffalo, Omaha…"

"And you're OK with that?" she asked with surprise. "I don't think I could do it, give up all that control over my life."

"After hanging around here for so long, I'm ready for a change of scenery."

"God," she sighed, shaking her head at all of that uncertainty.

She realized that she never really understood what this career entailed when he used to talk about it. As his then-girlfriend, it was hard to believe she encouraged him to go into a profession that would either end up controlling her life decisions or driving them away from each other if she decided not to go along with it. To think about it now, they never stood a chance.

"What does Sasha think?"

He gave her a curious look which made her feel like she had crossed a line. "She's fine with it."

Michonne hummed in response. Sasha must have been pretty supportive, though she probably understood this level of sacrifice given the line of work she was in.

"So what's new with you?" he asked.

"Almost halfway through," she said cheerfully to which he raised his water bottle to toast her. "Columbia has a great counseling psychology program. I've been doing a lot of work with adolescents which I really love. I think I may have found my niche."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, teens and early twenties are formative years. I feel for them. There's so much change going on and relationships with parents can be tricky...which I can fully relate to." They shared a knowing smile over. "Anyway, I'm applying for a fellowship to study cross-cultural perspectives in adolescent development and behavior abroad."

He'd stopped absently petting Dolly and looked at her. "Abroad again?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "I'm hoping for a better experience this time."

"Well, I really hope you get it."

"Me too," she said with a small, hopeful grin.

She glanced down at the dog who was now lightly snoring in her lap, as she continued rub her fingers over her soft ears which proved to be quite soothing for all.

"How's Siddiq doing?"

She looked up and sighed through her nose, feeling her teeth clench together as her lips pressed together into a tight grin.

"Uh, he's good. Busy finishing up rotations and looking into residency interviews."

"Where's he looking?"

She inwardly groaned at his continued questioning. "He's decided to go into Cardiology, so he's looking at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Cleveland Clinic, and Michigan."

"So back to the midwest?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's where he wants to end up eventually…"

"What's the demand like for cross-cultural adolescent psychologists there?"

She met his eyes and huffed out a laugh. She knew he knew given he had asked the question in the first place. He was going to be a damn good agent one day. " ...I won't be going with him," she confessed.

His eyes narrowed on hers, and he pressed his lips together, having no follow up question for her this time.

"We've had some long, honest talks about the future recently," she explained, "and it's pretty clear we want different things, so…" She trailed off and shrugged, knowing he knew exactly how that went given their history. "You live and you learn."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Well, I'm sorry? I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," she laughed self-consciously, knowing how awkward it must have been for him. "I probably shouldn't have said anything. We're just in a strange place right now...don't mention it to him or anyone else tomorrow."

"I won't," he promised.

She smiled thankfully, and looked away for a moment, focusing her attention on the dog. She and Siddiq were as good as done, though they were hanging on because why not? They still liked each other enough, he had no interest in starting something new in the few months before he left town, and she was in no rush to start something new when her future plans were due to take shape over the next year, but she didn't really want to think about all of that now...

"OK, so if you had your pick, which field office would you want to be assigned to, Special Agent Grimes?" she asked, purposely shifting the focus back on him.

"Uh, that's a good question…" He looked up at the ceiling, squinting his eyes as he considered it. "I guess, Norfolk or D.C. would be nice."

"Like Mulder and Scully?" she teased.

He laughed and shook his head as he returned his attention to her. "You're such a nerd, Miche. How does everyone not see this?"

She shrugged and shook her head. It was a wonder to her, as well, because she did not consider herself cool in the least.

"No, because there's some beautiful land and mountains up there that I wouldn't mind exploring," he informed her.

"And what would your last choice be?"

"Anchorage," he said certainly.

"Oh yeah," she agreed. "Too cold. And too far. You're practically in Russia."

"Yeah, well, maybe I'll end up there and you'll end up in Russia, and we can ferry back and forth on the weekends to hang out."

Her eyes went wide with horror. "Why would you wish that on us? No. Just no," she said vehemently shaking her head.

"You never know…"

"Well, I actually do have some say in where I'll end up, and I'm gonna have to say no to that one. Sorry."

"Fair enough...oh, what time do you have to report for duty tomorrow, by the way?" he asked, suddenly becoming aware of the increasingly late hour.

"Eight."

"That's not too bad," he said with surprise. "You just let me know when you want me to take you back to the Greene's house. I know you've had a long day…"

"I'm good...unless you want to get rid of me."

He glanced over and grinned at her. "Not yet. I'll be sure to tell you when."

"Sounds good."

Taking a cue from Dolly, they fell quiet and relaxed alongside her.

_Did I drive you away_  
_I know what you'll say_  
_You say, oh, sing one we know_  
_But I promise you this_  
_I'll always look out for you_  
_That's what I'll do_

* * *

Michonne, Denise, Maggie, Beth, and Rosita were all spread around Maggie's childhood bedroom sipping mimosas, or just straight orange juice in the case of the bride and her little sister, in their matching monogrammed robes, hair and makeup all done, while Rosita worked on Maggie's hair.

"I still don't understand how you didn't realize your were pregnant until you were ten weeks along."

Maggie looked up in the mirror and gave Rosita a death stare to which she silently mouthed _sorry_.

"Bethie, can you do me a favor and grab some more orange juice from downstairs?" she asked sweetly.

"Sure," her sister answered as she popped up from her spot on the bed.

Maggie watched her exit the room, and once she was out of earshot, she just shrugged. "You now how it goes, you get comfortable, you get a little careless, and you lose track."

"No, I don't know how it is," Rosita insisted. "I keep that shit under control."

Maggie looked at Michonne for back up.

"I mean, same," she agreed. "I've got an IUD," she explained before looking to Denise for another opinion.

"Not really something I've ever had to worry about," she reminded them.

"OK, I guess, somewhere along the line I stopped fixating so much on not getting pregnant because I subconsciously knew it wouldn't be the end of the world if I did, anymore," Maggie explained. "It's not the same as when you're eighteen and you're more worried about your parents finding out you were having sex than bringing home an actual baby at Christmas break."

Michonne laughed, remembering those exact fears that used to run through her mind just five short years ago. Things changed, though, and thank God for that.

"I'll have to take your word for it. I have _never_ gotten that comfortable," Rosita swore.

"You've never had a scare or a slip up?" Maggie asked skeptically. "Nope."

"Michonne?" she appealed.

"Just one," she admitted before taking a sip of her drink. "That's all I needed."

Rosita glanced over at her. "I don't remember that."

"We weren't that close yet," she explained. "It was early on with Rick so we were at it.._a lot_," she laughed, "and the condom broke one night. I was first in line for Plan B at the health clinic the next morning and then I went in like every few days for a pregnancy test," she remembered, shaking her head. "I was insane for like two weeks straight. On like the third visit, the nurse practitioner took me aside, and was like, _Honey, we need to talk._" She and all of her, now older and wiser friends laughed knowingly. "My period came, I got on the pill, and I never looked back."

"OK, I get that," Maggie allowed, "but how would you react if that happened to you, say tonight?"

"Are you trying to curse her?" Rosita exclaimed. "Let the woman graduate and get married first! Damn," she whispered, shaking her head.

"No!" Maggie defended. "And it's not a curse," she scoffed as she placed her hand on her small belly, as if to cover her baby's ears.

Rosita shrugged as she wrapped the final strand of her hair around the curling iron. It was all a matter of opinion, of course.

"Well, it wouldn't happen," Michonne answered once she stopped laughing. "I'm protected. Like as protected as you get."

"OK, but like, say you weren't," Maggie pressed, looking for an ally in the room. "Would it really be the end of the world if you and Siddiq got pregnant?"

"Um…" She hesitated for a moment, knowing that on paper it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, but in actuality, that was another story. "It wouldn't be ideal."

"Oh, come on," Maggie scoffed. "Denise? Hypothetically."

"Wow, that's a _really_ big hypothetical," she said with wide eyes. "But no, Tara and I would be fine with it. We love kids. It probably beats any alternative we'll have to go through when we actually are ready to have them someday."

"Plus they already have a grown son, so why not add to the family?" Rosita teased.

"That's true," Denise laughed, raising her glass to salute Rosita for the assist.

"OK, what do you think?" Rosita cut in to ask as she smoothed her hands over the finished style.

Maggie eyed herself in the mirror, turning her head to appreciate the side swept, curled bob that made her look like an Old Hollywood screen siren.

"Love it," she exclaimed, popping up from her chair. "OK, I have to pee one last time, and then we need to get dressed."

Maggie hurried out of the room, taking great care not to move her head too quickly and ruin her hair. Rosita flipped off the curling iron, then stepped up to the mirror to give her own hair one last check.

"So back to hypotheticals…" she asked, looking back at Michonne through the mirror while she applied her lipstick. "What if you got pregnant with Rick?"

"Back then?" she asked.

"No, like last night or tonight?" she clarified ever so innocently.

Michonne laughed like she was crazy, and threw back the final sip of her drink while Denise looked on curiously.

"I saw him drop you off this morning just as I was coming in…"

Denise leaned forward in her chair. "I'm sorry, what?"

"OK." Michonne stood and motioned for them to calm down. "I went over to meet Dolly last night and I ended up spending the night...on his couch," she spat out. It was not _the_ truth, but she needed to stop the questioning.

Rosita's lips snarled in disgust. "He made you sleep on the _couch_?"

It was a bad lie which was probably going to earn Rick a gut punch from Rosita when she saw him later, and he absolutely did not deserve it. Truth is, he was the perfect gentleman. After dozing off on the couch, she woke up to him carrying her up the stairs to his bedroom. After he laid her down and tucked her in, she was the asshole who wasn't totally broken up with her boyfriend who invited a man in a relationship to share the bed with her. He gave her a small smile and told her it wasn't a good idea, then went downstairs.

"He insisted that I take his bed, but I didn't want to put him out."

"Really, Michonne?" Rosita was not buying it at all.

"Yes. Really."

"Well, I think it's great that you two are on that good of terms again," Denise volunteered earning looks from both of her friends, though for different reasons. "I do!"

"I'll be watching you," Rosita warned, pointing two fingers to from her eyes to Michonne.

"Watching what?" Beth asked as she showed up with a pitcher of fresh squeezed OJ.

"Nothing," Michonne assured her.

She walked over to her purse to grab her lipstick and saw that she had missed two calls from Siddiq while they were getting ready. She pressed the button next to his number and raised her phone up to her ear as she started to transfer some essentials from her purse to the clutch she planned on carrying.

"Hey."

"Hey," she answered back. "You sound tired," she noted, given his groggy voice.

"I am...so listen, don't be angry…"

"Why would I be angry?" she asked with a light laugh.

"Because I overslept this morning. I didn't get in until 2:00 AM and I thought I set my alarm, but...I missed my flight."

"Oh." She stopped what she was doing, and Rosita and Denise turned their attention to her based on her side of the conversation.

"I'm sorry, Michonne."

"It's fine." She was surprised at how fine it was, actually. She felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "I know how hard you've been working this month."

"I really wanted to be there."

"Yeah," she nodded. She looked up to see that Rosita had stepped in front of her, wordlessly asking if she was OK. "...it's OK," she said.

"Tell Glenn and Maggie I'm sorry I couldn't be there and give them my congratulations."

"I will."

"OK. I guess I'm going to go back to sleep then. I'm sorry."

"Yeah," she nodded. "OK."

She pressed the end button and lowered the phone from her ear and tossed it on the bed then went back to sorting through her purse.

"What's wrong?" Rosita asked.

"Oh my God, what's wrong?" Maggie asked, having just arrived in the room in time to hear Rosita's question and the concern in her voice.

"Nothing," she assured them. "Siddiq missed his flight, so he won't be able to make it. He sends his apologies and regards."

"Oh," Maggie said with relief. "I mean, that sucks, but you know…it's not like the end of the world."

Michonne grinned back. "I know."

"OK, we're due downstairs there in thirty minutes, so let's get dressed," she announced, setting everyone in motion except for Rosita.

"That doesn't seem like him," Rosita whispered, shaking her head.

"We'll talk," Michonne promised, chalking it up to best friend intuition. "After."

* * *

Rick knocked on the door of one of the second floor guest rooms, and popped his head in to see Glenn standing in front of an antique wood full length mirror in his navy blue suit with the two undone ends of his striped grey tie in his hands.

"Hey," he sighed. "Are you good at tying ties?"

Rick stepped in revealing his own perfectly tied tie which he'd only mastered in the last few months as he prepared for suit life in the FBI. He moved in front of his friend and took hold of the loose ends and began to work his magic.

"So how are you feeling?" he asked.

"Good," the groom said.

"Yeah? No nerves? No cold feet?"

Glenn looked down and laughed, knowing that Rick, of all people, had a right to ask since he had been witness to his previous episode of cold feet.

"Not at all. I'm marrying the woman I love, we've got a baby on the way," a smile crept onto his lips, "I finally understand why she's been extra Maggie the past few months, and it's actually for really good reason," he laughed.

At the time of their proposal, it turns out Maggie was around seven weeks pregnant, unbeknownst to them, and the hormones were wreaking havoc on her mood and making him question whether they were really right for each other for the few weeks leading up to it.

"I'm just ready to move on to the next chapter in our lives."

"Good." Rick straightened the tie then clapped his hand on his friend's shoulder and stepped aside. "That's how it should be."

Glenn took a look at himself in the mirror and grinned at the finished product. As an elementary school teacher, he rarely wore anything more formal than khakis and a polo shirt, so this dapper, suited man staring back at him in the mirror was a sight to behold, and he hoped his bride would agree. He looked up at Rick who was grinning beside him and his own grin began to fade.

"Hey, you know I consider you my best man, right?"

Rick shrugged and shook his head. "Thanks, but you know I don't care much about titles and formalities and all that."

"And neither do I," he agreed, "but Maggie has this vision, of course, so I let her have her way with most of this stuff, but if it bothers you, I can step in and change it. No questions asked, no drama. That's the agreement we have with each other."

"Honestly, I don't mind," Rick promised.

"And you're really OK being paired with Michonne?"

"You know we're past all that now."

"Yeah, I know you two get along well now, but I didn't know if since it's a wedding and all if that made things harder, I mean I know if it was me and Maggie in your positions, I wouldn't-" He stopped himself and shook his head. "Nevermind. Based on the way you're looking at me, I'm way off base."

Glenn wasn't, though, he was actually painfully on point. Being paired in a wedding with the former love of your life had been a proper mindfuck. It was hard to tell if the things he was feeling were real or just a strong sense of sentimentality for what was and what could have been. Rick hadn't slept at all last night, knowing that she was just upstairs in his bed, practically single, and wanting his company. He'd gotten up at least a half dozen times, up the stairs a few of those times, and to the door once, but he ultimately erred on the side of caution.

Rick waived him off. "Hey, it's 10:15. You ready to roll?"

"Let's do this," Glenn nodded.

* * *

Michonne needed to get these heels off of her feet and stat, but she had been sworn to keep them on through the first dance for the sake of the pictures. Every time she shifted to redistribute the pain, she'd earn a look from the man she'd been linked to all weekend.

"Sorry," she hissed.

"Almost there," he promised. He'd already offered to carry her or trade shoes because he was good like that. At least the laughter was a temporary distraction from the numbness seeping into her toes now.

"Ladies and Gents, can I have your attention please?" The DJ announced over the small speaker setup near the barn's entrance.

Michonne looked upward in thanks as the guests quieted and turned their attention to the front where the Bride and Groom stood with their attendants.

"The new Mr. and Mrs. Rhee would like to say a few words."

Maggie smiled, and accepted the microphone then took a deep breath and turned toward the small crowd of friends and loved ones.

"We just wanted to thank you all for coming today, I know it was short notice," she said with a small laugh," but it means the world to us that you could all be here to celebrate our marriage and the start of our family."

Everyone clapped warmly as she beamed at their guests and then her new husband.

"Now y'all know I like to do things up pretty big, and I think you can all agree that this has been a pretty low key affair by my standards, right?"

Rick glanced at Michonne and they shared a small smile. It actually had been a relatively drama free affair, and they actually had manage.

"Right, honey?" she asked, specifically looking to Glenn who nodded genuinely. "So just indulge me then for a moment...you know I just can't help myself."

She pulled out a small piece of paper that was tucked into her bouquet and unfolded it, then held it out in front of her.

"We decided not to write our own vows, and just have a traditional ceremony today, but I do have some things I'd like to say to my new husband, so I guess you can consider this a toast."

Glenn took a step closer and reached for her hand. "Babe, you don't have to do this."

She sniffed, and blinked a few times, already tearing up from what she was about to say. "I know, but I want to."

He nodded, giving her the go ahead since it apparently meant so much to her.

"I just want you, and everyone here with us to know how much I love you. I can be intense, dramatic, demanding," she sighed, "and the list goes on and on. My standards are..._high_," she laughed, "and pretty darn inflexible, and that is most certainly the case when it comes to love. Glenn, you are the perfect man. You're sensitive and kind, loving and supportive, strong and smart. This is who you were when we met our junior year of high school, and your character has only strengthened and grown with time. I wouldn't want to do this with anyone but you, and more importantly...I _couldn't_ do this with anyone, but you." She reached over and wiped a tear out of his eye and rested her head against his. "You make me a better person," she said with a tearful smile. "It's always been you, and will always be you. You are it for me."

With the end of her words, they wrapped their arms around each other tightly, whispering a few private words in each other's ears while their friends and family clapped and raised their glasses, some even clinking their forks against it, calling for the couple to seal it with a kiss which they obliged.

For the second wedding in a row, Michonne found herself tearing up. This was Maggie and Glenn at their best; her big heart and grand gestures and his unflashy quiet and steady love. She was happy, of course, for her friends, but she couldn't deny that the man whose arm she was on had been on her mind in ways he hadn't been for a long time this weekend. When she went to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye, she felt his hand cover hers where it rested on his forearm. When she looked up, he was still watching Maggie and Glenn with a faint smile on his lips. She wondered if he ever thought about their past or if he was only looking ahead.

Maggie laughed self-consciously as they pulled apart and turned to the DJ, offering up the microphone. "Take this out of my hands before I blubber anymore," she laughed.

He did as asked, then cued up the music for the first dance, and Glenn and Maggie wrapped their arms around each other and began to sway to the opening fiddle of _Cowboy Take Me Away_, smiling and whispering to one another as if no one else was there. After the first verse, Maggie turned toward their party and waved them over then turned out to the guests.

"Come on, 'y'all!"

Doc and Mrs. Greene hopped up from their seats along with the relatives sitting at their table. Tara and Denise made their way out to to the floor, and Eugene left Beth and walked over to the table where Rosita was sitting alone awaiting her friends arrival after their official duties, and held out his hand to her. The face she made had Rick and Michonne in laughing from their spots at the side of the dance floor as they watched hesitantly take his hand and agree to a dance.

"Where's Siddiq?" he asked, just now noticing his absence at the table.

She looked up at him and shook her head. "He couldn't make it."

"I'm sorry."

She quietly shrugged her shoulders. "What about Sasha?" she asked.

He huffed out a laugh and shook his head. "Why do you keep bringing her up?"

"Because you two are dating…" He furrowed his brow at her assumption. "I heard you on the phone with her that night at the beach house, so…"

He started laughing and pinch the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger as he sighed.

"We're just friends. She's cute, smart, funny. We gave it a whirl," he admitted, "but uh...how do I say this…" He looked away from her, smiling as he looked out on the dance floor. "We don't _dance _well together."

He watched her expectantly, as she deciphered his code. And then it clicked. He was talking about the horizontal mambo. No sexual chemistry. Which was confounding because how could someone not have sexual chemistry with Rick Grimes?

"Oh."

"Yeah." His cheeks pinkened a little. "And she'd be the first one to tell you that, so I don't think I overstepped my boundaries in saying so. We're buddies," he stated as the final word.

"Right," she breathed out, before starting to laugh. "Sorry."

"No problem….it's kinda hard to start something up when you don't know where you'll be in a year or so anyway, you know?" he added.

"Don't I know," she agreed quietly.

They stood there for a moment, her still shaking her head a her misstep.

"Should we join them?"

She looked up and grinned. "Sure."

He held out his hand, and she put hers in it, then followed him to an empty corner of the dance floor. She wrapped her other arm around his shoulder while he placed his around her lower back. She took a small step in to close the wide distance between them, and they began to sway to the music together.

* * *

After breakfast, Michonne gave her final hugs and goodbyes to the Greenes and the new Mr. and Mrs. Rhee, then picked up her bags that were already sitting in the foyer, and decided to head for the car while she waited for Rosita to make her way downstairs so that they could drive back to Atlanta where she would drop her off at the airport.

When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Rick walking up in the front steps.

"Hey."

He nodded and joined her on the porch. His hair was still slightly damp from his morning shower and the faint scent of soap floated in the air between them. The collared shirts and suits he'd worn all weekend were tossed aside for a simple grey t-shirt and jeans. He had always looked so good in the simplest outfits.

"What are you doing here?"

"I volunteered to help with the clean up," he said, nodding toward the barn. "I was told I'd be paid in coffee, biscuits, and all the bacon I could eat."

"They're not lying. Mrs. Greene did it up this morning." Michonne had at least two biscuits in her belly and two wrapped up in her purse for later.

"Good." He glanced down at her bags. "You heading out?"

"Yeah, as soon as Rosita's ready."

"Can I help you with your bags?"

"No, but thank you," she said sweetly. Of the many things there were to admire about him, it was his thoughtfulness that always got her and that's why she needed him to stop right now. "You better get in their before the food gets cold."

"Well…" He trailed off for a moment. "Hope you have a good flight back."

"Thanks."

"And good luck with that fellowship," he added. "Really, I hope you get it."

"Thank you," she said again. "And just hang in there. It'll be time to apply before you know it."

"Yeah." He shoved his hands in his front pockets and looked down. "...well, I had fun this weekend."

"Me too." She must have caught his sudden shyness because she found herself clutching her purse strap with both hands and chewing her bottom lip in their pauses. "It was better than either of us expected."

"Yes, it was," he agreed.

He looked up toward the house while she look down at Rosita's car for a moment, unsure of what to say or how to leave this. She'd been here before. After that party. Freshman year.

"You don't have my new number, do you?" she said finally.

"Uh, no, I don't think I do," he stammered as he patted his back pocket for his phone.

"You should take it," she suggested, trying to be as cool as possible even though her heart felt like it was in her throat for some reason. "In case something comes up or...whatever."

"Yeah," he nodded. He pulled out his phone and flipped it open. "What is it?

"646," she started as she watched him punch it in. "555-1456."

She watched him hit save then look up at her. "I'll text you so you have mine...in case you don't have it anymore."

"You text?" she asked with surprise.

"Yeah, I text," he laughed, shaking his head at her foolishness.

"OK, you ready?" Rosita called out as the door swung open.

She stepped onto the porch and a smirk formed on her face when she ran into them. She gave Michonne a long look then focused her attention on Rick.

"Good morning, Grimey," she said ever so sweetly.

"Morning, Rosie."

"You two all set, or…"

"All set," Michonne said quickly.

She stepped forward and gave Rick a hug goodbye, then picked up her bags and walked down to Rosita's car with her, threw her suitcase in the trunk, then hopped in to the passenger seat as Rosita got into the driver's seat. They looked back to the house where Rick was still standing on the porch. He gave them a wave, and they waved back, then he headed into the house.

"You have _so _much explaining to do and you better tell me _everything_," Rosita warned as she started the car. "And I mean every Goddamned thing."

Michonne threw her head back and laughed as she put the car in drive and headed toward the main road out in front of the Greene farm.

"So, go already," she blurted out impatiently, as they turned onto the road and headed back to Atlanta.

Featured song: Sparks by Coldplay


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Apologies for the lateness of this update, but February was a rough month for me. This chapter isn't exactly where I wanted it to be, but if I had waited any longer for the words to come, it might not have gotten done. Thank you so much for the review and follows-I am seriously behind on responding, but they are so appreciated! Hope to have the next update for you sooner than this!

**Chapter 7**

**The Christening**

_April 2005_

"Welcome to twenty-five!"

Michonne picked up the lychee martini the waiter had just delivered to their table, and held it out in front of Rosita who, despite a belated birthday dinner with her best friend at her favorite sushi restaurant in Atlanta, appeared to be in a less than celebratory mood. Michonne pointedly raised her glass a little higher after being left hanging for a few seconds before Rosita reluctantly picked up her drink and clinked it against hers.

"Cheers, Rosita."

"_Cheers_," she returned through clenched teeth before bringing it to her pouty lips.

"Don't say it like that. I'm happy I get to celebrate with you, even if you're not."

"You're just here for the christening."

"No, I'm here for you."

Rosita tilted her head to one side, skeptically.

"...and Baby Rhee," Michonne admitted.

Rosita finally grinned. Truth, even if it wasn't pretty, was always appreciated. Bullshit never was. "Whatever," she sighed. "I'm not sure what there is to celebrate about twenty-five anyway. It feels like we've peaked, and it's all downhill from here."

Michonne nearly spit out her drink. If this was the peak, she had absolutely nothing to look forward to. If anything, after a shit few years, she felt like she was finally on the up. A graduate degree was within reach and her fellowship application was off and under review. She knew better than to take anything for granted, but she had to believe that if she was happy in her career, that love and happiness and everything else would fall into place. And even if it didn't, she would still be OK.

"Thirty is right around the corner," Rosita carried on. "That shit's scary."

"Have you ever considered that thirty may be the beginning and not the end of life?" Michonne swirled the skewered lychees in her glass then took another sip while Rosita narrowed her eyes in warning from across the table. She was always weary of Michonne using her "psychology" on her. That's not was this was, though, it was just a gut feeling based on life as she knew it so far. And a very sincere hope that the next decade would be better than this one had been to her. "How's the new job going, by the way?"

Rosita brightened up with the change of topic, sitting a little straighter in her chair and leaning in with interest. She had recently gone from being a corporate translator to providing translation services to the reporters at CNN.

"I mean, it's a huge upgrade from sitting in a cubicle. We're heading to Colombia to do a story on their recent economic resurgence next week."

"That is so exciting," Michonne sighed. She had the travel bug lately thanks to all the research she had been doing in preparation for the fellowship. "Do you get any downtime to explore?"

"We usually get at least a free afternoon or evening, but we're pretty much on the clock the whole time we're down there."

"Cool co-workers at least?"

Rosita nodded before quickly popping a piece of edamame in her mouth, and suddenly becoming interested with the going-on's in the large fish tank in the center of the restaurant. Finding her quietness all too suspicious, Michonne knew there had to be a story there.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing," she said innocently.

"No, you don't get to pull that with me," Michonne warned.

Rosita rolled her eyes, but relented. "There's this guy...he's an anchor. Spencer Monroe."

Michonne cooed with interest. "Would I know him?"

"Uh no," Rosita laughed. "Not unless you watch on weekends at 4 AM. He's a total trust fund baby which is probably how he got the job. Mom's a congresswoman."

"I was gonna say, that name sounds like he's either old money or a soap opera character."

"Well, he kinda looks like he belongs on _Days of Our Lives_ instead of the news…"

Michonne's eyes widened, as she imagined how handsome he must be considering that the people who populated daytime dramas were hired more for their looks than their acting abilities.

"It's not a good thing," Rosita was quick to clarify. "I learned early on never to trust a guy who's too good looking. Usually they're lacking something else...like character. Anyway, he started coming around my desk, trying to make small talk and telling me these _cheesy_ jokes." Her face twisted in disgust at just the mention of them. "Then he asked me out to dinner after happy hour one night, and it was...nice," she decided. "Like not bad, not amazing. And then we hooked up one night, and it was…"

"Nice?" Michonne guessed.

"Yeah," she laughed. "And it drives me fucking crazy because he's not that special, but for some reason, I can't stop thinking about him."

"You like him." It was a natural assumption based on what she was hearing.

"No," she said, holding up a wagging finger. "I don't know that yet."

"Rosita," Michonne chided, shaking her head.

"Don't even," she spat back. "How's Rick?"

Just like that, the tables had turned. Michonne assumed the nonchalant act now, taking a sip of her martini first, in no great rush to answer. "Fine, I guess. You've probably talked to him more recently than I have."

"Have I?" Rosita asked skeptically. "I thought you two were keeping in touch now."

"Yeah, a little bit."

"Does he know you're here?"

"He knows I'll be in town, but he doesn't know my flight times like you do."

Rosita picked up her drink and leaned back in her chair. "So what else do you two talk about?"

"Life," she shrugged. "Just like I would with you…"

"So he knows that you and Siddiq are officially over?"

Michonne shook her head no.

"But surely he knows about that good looking investment banker named Mike you went out on a few dates with."

"Which isn't going anywhere, by the way," Michonne updated her. "So no."

"Mmm," Rosita nodded. "That's what I thought. So you don't really talk to him about everything," she concluded.

Perhaps it was working alongside reporters that had sharpened her investigative skills or it was just her own natural bullshit detector, but Rosita was on to her. Real friends would have no problems talking about anything and everything with each other, but she and Rick definitely had limits. Certain topics that they could never casually broach given their ex status, like dating other people. She often wondered if they could ever actually be _friends_, or would remain in this limbo status of friendly exes.

"Of course not. But he knows about school and stuff, and I know he's sending off his application next week. That's the kind of stuff we text about."

"Wait, talk or text?"

"Text," she laughed, as if it was the silliest question. "I don't call him up at random times all, _Hey girl, what's up?_ Please," she scoffed.

"So could you, like, text him to come out and join us?" she asked, not so innocently.

"Yeah."

"Then do it."

"But we're hanging out," Michonne protested.

"I adore Grimey, though. It would make my birthday complete."

Michonne couldn't keep hold back her laugh. "Please, Rosita."

"Do it," she pressed, nodding toward the cell phone sitting on the table.

Michonne stared at her friend for a moment, then sighed. If she was being one hundred percent real, the minute she stepped foot in Atlanta, there was this strong urge to see him. Like just knowing she was breathing the same air as him made her skin buzz with excitement. The only way to describe it was a crush. A crush on your ex-boyfriend if there was such a thing.

"Fine." She picked up her phone, flipped it open, and began to type, saying the words out loud as she did. "Hey, Rosita and I are out having drinks. Wanna join?"

She flashed the screen for evidence and hit send, then placed it on the table between them and grabbed another piece of edamame. Not to sound like the worst best friend in the world, but _God_ she really hoped he could come.

They both looked down when the phone dinged no more than two seconds later. Michonne opened the new message, holding it out for both to read.

_Hey! I would, but I'm working late tonight. Sorry._

She had to make sure the sinking disappointment didn't show on her face. "No problem," she typed back.

No sooner had she sent it, another new message popped up on her screen.

_Can we catch up tomorrow night?_

She looked up at Rosita who had just finished reading the message and was already mocking her heart eyes. So busted, but she didn't even care. She shrugged to ask permission, and Rosita shrugged back, punting the decision back to her.

"Sure," she typed back.

_See ya then. Tell Rosie I say hi._

"Tell Grimey I say hey."

"Should I include that evil little smirk on your face?" Michonne teased, causing her friend to laugh and shake her head.

"She says Hey Grimey," she typed.

_Have fun ladies. :)_

Michonne grinned back at the screen, then slipped her phone shut and pushed it aside. She didn't know how on earth she was going to sleep tonight knowing that she was going to see him in the morning, and the afternoon, and the evening, and maybe the—

"Look at you. All smiley and shit."

"Whatever." She brushed her off with a wave of her hand. "So we're on for drinks tomorrow. Maybe Spencer can come with."

"Oh no, we already have plans," Rosita informed her. "Guess it's just you two."

Michonne's eyes widened in disbelief. "You planned a date when you knew I would be in town?"

"You always end up hanging out with Grimey anyways," she defended, "why would I think this time would be different?"

Michonne was left shaking her head as she reached for her drink, but she was glad this time wouldn't be different.

* * *

Rosita and Michonne, all dressed in their Sunday best despite it being a Saturday morning, walked up the steps of The First Presbyterian Church of Athens, and entered through the imposing oak doors. Rosita pulled at the collar of her pink sweater and Michonne fanned her face with her hand. Rosita always seemed to get a little tense and twitchy when they stepped foot inside a church. It's not that Rosita was a bad girl at all, she just wasn't a _good_ girl. At least not as good as her devoutly Catholic mother, aunts, and all of the nuns of her parochial school past would have wanted her to be, and she could never quite shake the guilt.

Michonne's sudden hot flash had nothing to do with the Lord, though. It was just plain old nerves and the Georgia humidity. She quickly scanned the church and spotted the Greene and Rhee families up front along with Denise and Tara, the appointed godparents, chatting with the priest. And then she saw two familiar faces standing off to the side of activities. _Finally_. She tugged on Rosita's arm and they made their way over. As they neared, Rick tapped Eugene's arm to point them out, then waved.

"You look like Elvis," Rosita snarked once they were within hearing distance.

In his all white three piece suit, it was a toss up between Colonel Sanders or the King, but Eugene's dark brown pompadour up top, mullet in the back hairstyle pushed him in that direction.

He grinned proudly, "Why thank you, thank you very much, pretty lady."

Rosita huffed out an amused laugh at his response, but Michonne had already locked eyes with Rick's baby blues.

"Hey," he greeted with decidedly less flare, but oh so much style.

"Hey you."

"You look really nice."

She smiled shyly as she looked down at the flowy, mint green sundress she had bought just for the occasion, giving the skirt a little twirl.

"Thanks." She looked up at him with his fitted navy blue suit, jacket open with a white dress shirt underneath it. "So do you. I know how much you hate wearing suits, but you wear them well."

He rolled his eyes, looking embarrassed, as he pulled at the collar. That might have been a little much first thing in the morning. He did start it, though.

"Rick and Michonne!"

As proud Grandpa Greene approached the two of them, she glanced behind her to see that Rosita and Eugene had already slipped into the pew to take their seats, leaving she and Rick on their own.

"Doc Greene!" Michonne exclaimed warmly, despite internally freaking out, as she gave him a hug.

"Good morning, sir," Rick nodded, settling on a firm handshake.

"What a treat to see the two of ya again," he grinned. "All dressed and such on this fine morning."

Michonne nervously glanced up at Rick, wondering if her guilt-addled mind was playing tricks on her. He had meant dressed _up_, of course, right? Not dressed, period. As in naked. She was truly never going to be able to act normal around Doc Greene again. Rick glanced down at her and furrowed his brow slightly.

"Well, we wouldn't have missed this for the world," he informed Hershel.

"You comin' back to our place for lunch afterwards? The missus is making her famous chicken salad sandwiches and we got our first batch of strawberries early this year, so we're havin' strawberry rhubarb pie for dessert."

Rick glanced down at Michonne again since it was her turn to answer, but her words were trapped behind her tight grin.

"Sounds delicious," he said on their behalf after a delay.

"You know it will be. Well, excuse me, got to get back to my seat. We're due to be startin' up soon."

Rick nodded and waved him goodbye, then tugged on Michonne's arm to lead her to their seats. "What is your deal?" he whispered once they sat down.

"I still can't look him in the eye," she whispered back, "now that I know that he knows."

He groaned and threw his hands up in the air. "You've got to get over that."

Rosita craned her head around Rick upon hearing their conversation. "What exactly did you two do in that barn?" she asked.

"We are in a church," Michonne whispered harshly.

Rosita shrugged her shoulder while Rick tried to stifle a laugh. "Grimey?"

"I'll never tell," he answered as he stared ahead toward the altar.

Just then, the organ started to play and the congregation all rose to their feet. Michonne glanced over at her best friend who was still looking her way with a smirk, then picked up a hymnal and lifted it to hide her face.

* * *

Michonne settled Clementine into the bend of her arm, and adjusted the little white blanket she was swaddled in, then took a moment to appreciate the precious little thing in her arms. Face all soft and squishy, eyes closed, little lips formed into a small pout. It was, without a doubt, one of the sweetest things she had ever seen. The fact that her friends had done this blew her mind. Maggie and Glenn were _parents_.

"You're a pro," Maggie observed from the chair beside her in her parent's living room.

Michonne looked up and grinned proudly. "I was an in-demand babysitter back in the day."

"You should share some of your knowledge with Uncle Rick, then," Maggie none to subtly suggested as she winked at him where he sat beside Michonne on the couch. "He always claims he doesn't know what he's doing when we ask him to babysit."

"Because I don't," he defended.

"I see the way you take care of that damn dog," Maggie argued. "Based on that alone, I would trust you with my kid for a few hours."

Michonne looked up at him, trying to stifle her laugh since she was the one holding the sleeping baby.

"I've never really been around kids before, especially not one this small," he said with a nod toward Clementine. "I know nothing about holding them or feeding them or what they can and can't do."

"Well, I think people make it out to be more difficult than it really is," Michonne said before looking to Maggie for back up. "Don't you think?"

The new mom grinned and hemmed for a moment. "Depends on how you mean."

"OK, so lack of sleep and crying are a given, but feeding schedules? Sleeping schedules?"

"All negotiable," Maggie agreed. "Strict schedules and perfect plans went out the window after about two weeks."

"And all the different devices and carriers and toys just seem so ridiculous," Michonne went on, thinking of how often she saw families loading up their minivans with enough stuff you'd think they were going on vacation and not just to dinner.

Maggie hesitated. "Well…"

"I just feel like it shouldn't be that complicated," Michonne explained. "Put the baby in a sling, throw a bottle and a few diapers in your purse, and off you go."

"In _that_ purse?" Maggie peered down at the small straw clutch on the couch beside her.

Michonne glanced down at it and shook her head. "No, like a tote."

"Mmm," Maggie nodded. "I suppose you never really know until you try…"

* * *

Rick looked back and forth between the two women, keeping his mouth shut since the only thing he knew was that he didn't have a damn clue enough about any of this to have an opinion.

Michonne cocked her head to one side and grinned. "Are you challenging me?"

"Well, I wouldn't mind going out on a date tonight," Maggie shrugged. "Would you babe?" she called out to Glenn who was off in the kitchen with Denise and Tara.

"Would I what?" he asked.

"Want to go out on a date tonight?"

He looked at his wife, then his friends, and finally his baby, unsure of how to answer. "Sure?"

"Ooh, Denise and Tara!" Maggie exclaimed, like it had just dawned on her. "You should come, too."

Rick arched a brow and glanced at Michonne who had now gone quiet as she realized the trap she had just walked into. He had a whole night planned for them, and it didn't involve babies.

"We haven't gotten to go out like we used to in months since they always sit for us," Maggie went on, just laying on the guilt.

"Well, I sort of have plans tonight," Michonne shared.

"Oh?" Maggie asked.

"We were going to grab drinks," she explained, nudging him for back up. Before he could answer, though, Maggie was already on it.

"Well, that's no problem. Just throw Clem in a sling, and go, right? You can teach him the ropes."

By this point, Glenn had wandered into the living room to get a better idea of what exactly what his wife was up to because they all knew she was up to something now. The only question was whether it was purely selfish motives or if there was more to it.

"Um," Rick cleared his throat and put his finger in the air, requesting permission to speak. "Can you even bring a baby to a bar?"

"Rick," she laughed, "you can do whatever the hell you want in this town."

Michonne, still gently and deftly bouncing the sleeping baby in her arms, looked up at him. "What do you think?" she asked quietly.

He hesitated. For his own admittedly selfish reasons, he wanted Michonne all to himself tonight. He'd been waiting months to see her again, and he wasn't thrilled with having to share her attention with Baby Clem. With the way Michonne had been doting on her all day, he knew he didn't have a chance.

"It will be fun," Maggie promised. "Like the most challenging drinking game you've ever played."

"I'm not gonna drink while I'm watching your baby," he protested in horror.

Maggie and Glenn shared a look and a laugh at his well-meaning naivete.

"You can have a beer," Glenn assured him, still chuckling. "It's one of my favorite things to do; chill out on the couch with Clem in one hand and a beer in the other."

"Like you and Dolly," Michonne pointed out with a gentle nudge to his shoulder.

Rick looked at his friends and then Michonne, all of whom were staring at him and seemed to think this was a good idea which he didn't at all.

"I...uh," he stammered, glancing down at Michonne who was still looking at him with her big brown eyes, clearly wanting him to say yes. He shook his head helplessly. "I suppose we can grab dinner instead...if you think you've got this."

"I know I do," she said confidently.

"OK, then," he relented.

"OK," she said with a smile.

"Well thanks Uncle Rick and Aunt Michonne," Maggie exclaimed, pulling their attention back to her. "I'm excited, babe," she said, looking up at her husband.

"Me too," Glenn agreed. "That was really cool for you guys to offer."

"Yeah," Rick huffed out a dryly at his friend's obliviousness.

Michonne leaned into his side and placed her lips close to his ear. "It'll be fine," she whispered. "We'll still have fun."

It was probably a good thing that they had a chaperone tonight because who knows what kind of trouble they would have gotten into otherwise.

* * *

"Watch your step," he cautioned.

He reached out and cupped her elbow with his hand as he pointed out the step up from the parking lot to the curb. With the baby hanging in front of her in some kind of stretch fabric sling that he still didn't trust despite having personally checked the integrity of the knots a few times, and both of her arms cradling the baby, he couldn't help but exercise extra caution on her behalf.

"Rick, I've got it."

"I know, but-"

She cleared the curb successfully then stopped and turned to him with a smile. "Relax."

He exhaled and nodded, knowing that she was right. It was going to be a long night for both of them if he kept this up, and he was with one the greatest babysitters ever to have played the game the way she told it.

"Hey, Officer Grimes."

They both looked up at the tall, slender woman with long, wavy brown hair who was dressed in a pair of low rise flared jeans and a cropped white, lacy tank top that exposed her pale midriff, waving in their direction as she entered the restaurant with a group of girlfriends.

Of all the times and places...Rick lifted his hand and waved back. "Oh hey, Lori."

She smiled back, her gaze lingering for just a moment longer, before she walked through the front entrance, and he could feel the heat of Michonne's stare on his cheek.

"Officer Grimes," she snickered, bringing his attention back to her. "That's still so weird to me."

"It's been almost three years," he reminded her.

"I know. Just sayin'...is she an ex or future girlfriend?"

"Neither." He sighed and shook his head, then looked down at Clem who was awake, but quiet and content in her sling, then back at Michonne. "You sure you're up for this?"

"Yes," she answered emphatically. "...but maybe see if we can get a table by the door."

He chuckled at her small, but comforting display of doubt. "So we can make a quick escape if this one throws a fit?"

"Exactly," she grinned. "I'm good, but she's a wild card."

He let out a laugh at her honest admission as they resumed walking. He opened the front door, and ushered them in then joined her at the hostess stand where a young woman, likely an underclassmen at their alma mater, welcomed them.

"Table for three, or two, rather," he supposed, glancing down at his party. Michonne shrugged. "Two and a baby," he decided.

The hostess was grinning, already with two menus in hand and ready to bring them to their table, before he had even finished.

"Do you need a high chair?" she asked.

He looked down to Michonne, deferring to her judgment.

"No, thanks," she answered.

The hostess nodded and motioned toward a booth along the window, and not too far from the door, that was just a few steps away.

"This one right here, OK?" she asked.

"It's perfect," Michonne said.

She set down two menus, one on each side, then wished them a good dinner and walked away. Michonne slid into one side of the booth, taking extra care to shield the baby's head against the edge of the table while Rick stood at attention, ready to help if needed. Once she was settled in, he went ahead and slid in right next to her which caused her eyes to widen.

"Figured it'd be easier if we need to switch off," he explained given the look on her face.

She grinned and nodded as it was, of course, the sensible thing to do. She knew it was a mistake to read too much into his choice to sit right beside her, but that didn't mean that she wasn't allowed to enjoy his closeness anyway.

She took a moment to look around the restaurant, a barbecue joint in an old, brick warehouse at the edge of town that brimmed with the smell of smoke and sweetness. There was a busy bar in the back, and tables upfront for those who were simply there for dinner. It was a favorite for all kinds of people: locals, college students, out of towners who had heard of its well-earned reputation. And it was definitely a favorite of hers back in college. She couldn't count how many times she and Rick had sat side by side in this or one of the other booths lining the walls, sharing drinks and food, on impromptu weeknight or Sunday afternoon dates.

"I've missed this place," she sighed. "They have every kind of food imaginable in the city, but there is no good barbecue."

"Is that right?"

"Yep. Of course they think they do, but-" She just shook her head because she knew better.

Sweet Clem began to fuss a little, and she was sure it wasn't because she was trying to voice her opinion on the matter. She hushed her and reached into her purse to pull out the bottle which felt cool in her hand, and unlocked a memory that had long been buried.

"Oh shit," she hissed. "I think you're supposed to warm the bottle before you give it to the baby."

"Uh…" Rick stared back at her dumbly for a moment. "You want me to see if they can microwave it?" he offered as it was the first thing that came to mind.

"I don't think you're supposed to do that."

"OK...get a cup of hot water?" he suggested while she looked back at him with uncertainty. "You know what? Joe, the bartender, has kids," he remembered. "I'll ask him."

"Good idea."

He took the bottle from her and set off across the restaurant, and politely, but firmly worked his way through the crowd up at the bar then waived down the bartender who quickly responded and made his way over. Rick leaned into the bar on one side and Joe on the other, they exchanged a few words, then a laugh, and that's when Rick brought the bottle up from his side and set it on the bar. The bartender grabbed it and disappeared for a moment, leaving Rick to casually lean against the bar in his white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and navy blue suit pants.

Michonne found herself smiling because it was just such a Rick thing to do. He didn't have all the answers, but that never stopped him. He was the guy you could count on for pretty much anything; he'd just roll up his sleeves, and figure it out. It was admirable, sweet...sexy.

She watched the woman they had seen outside slide into the empty space next time him, stealing his attention away from the television monitor he had been watching. She smiled and giggled, and, of course, he smiled back. She leaned in and whispered something into his ear, to which he laughed, though not genuinely in Michonne's opinion, and yes, she knew him well enough to be bold enough to make that call. Joe returned, interrupting their conversation, and Rick nodded goodbye then started back to their table while the brunette's eyes followed him and then landed on her own for a minute.

It was bold, to say the least, to talk to a man that way when he was clearly here with another woman and a baby, no less. And sure, he was still a single guy, but did she even know or care? On principle alone, it vexed her, so, not one to be intimidated or bothered, Michonne simply smiled back. It was a nice, but direct way of acknowledging the woman's stare, and the message was apparently received, as the brunette gave a faint smile back then turned away.

Michonne's smile grew wider as Rick approached the table, proudly holding a huge beer mug with the bottle bobbing up and down in what she assumed was hot water.

"Genius."

He set the contraption on the table and slid back into his seat next to her, his thigh meeting hers as he did. The warmth climbed straight up into her cheeks.

"I went ahead and ordered since I was up there. Your usual OK?"

"Um, yeah," she grinned. Why was he like this? It's not that she thought he would forget, but it was still sweet that he remembered. "So I know a man with a baby is attractive to some women, but damn."

His cheeks went pink as he laughed uncomfortably, realizing that she had witnessed that entire exchange. "It's not the baby."

"Is it your very blue eyes then?" she teased.

He shook his head. "It's the badge."

She was officially intrigued. "Go on."

"Some of the guys call them badge bunnies. Basically women who have a thing for guys with badges," he explained.

"Holy shit." She looked over at the group of women camped out at the bar, and shook her head, then jokingly shielded Clem's eyes from such behavior. It wasn't the kind of influence she wanted her honorary niece getting at such a young, tender age. "For the record, I liked you before you had a badge," she informed him. "Like before you even knew you wanted one."

"I know," he laughed.

"God," she breathed out, shaking her head again. "If you have this kind of game as a sheriff's deputy, just imagine what it's going to be like when you're FBI."

"Yeah, you know me, 'Chonne," he scoffed. "I'm only in it for the ladies."

The image was so absurd, she couldn't even conjure it in her mind. "I can't," she laughed. "Stop."

When she smiled, he smiled. When she laughed, he laughed. Having fun together regardless of the circumstances was something that came easily for them from the start, and it hadn't seemed to change. It still felt as good as it ever had, maybe better now considering what they had gone through.

"You think it's ready?" he asked with a nod toward the bottle.

"Shake some into the inside of your wrist and find out," she suggested.

He playfully groaned, but dutifully took the bottle and shook some onto his wrist, then stared at it, unsure of what he was even checking form.

"You want warm, not hot or cold," she giggled.

"Then I think we're good, but why don't you check?"

"I trust you," she grinned. "Now take her and feed her."

He protested with a small pout.

"You're supposed to be learning!" she reminded him.

She extracted Clem from the sling, giving her a quick kiss on the nose and cooing her name as she did, then placed her in the bend of his right arm and watched as he correctly kept her head upright before offering the bottle which she took to like a champ. He looked up with proud grin and she nodded her approval. Uncle Rick was getting the hang of it.

"Hey there!" the waitress interrupted. "I've got two beers and a basket of fried pickles to get you started."

"Oh yes." Michonne's eyes lit up at the sight of her favorite snack and she pointed toward the center of the table. "Right here."

The basket had barely hit the table before she was reaching for one and popping it into her mouth despite knowing that the pickles inside would be steaming hot.

"Oh my god," she breathed out, trying to cool the bite in her mouth. "Mmm."

Before she had even swallowed it, she was reaching for another.

"There gonna be any left for me?" he teased.

She looked at him and rolled her eyes, then picked one up and lifted it up to his lips. One corner turned up in a curious grin as he looked at her, questioning whether she really meant to do what she was doing, to which she nodded.

"You've got your hands full. Here."

His eyes stayed on hers as he took the food between his teeth, his lips briefly brushing her fingers as he did. She grinned shyly and looked downward, and he did the same. It was the practical thing to do with his hands full and all, a nice gesture, even, but between the two of them, it was dangerous. Especially given how much she liked the feel of his lips...

"Look at you, Clem," he cooed, using the baby as a welcome distraction.

They both smiled and chuckled at the little girl nearing the end of her bottle.

"Chug, chug, chug," he chanted quietly, causing Michonne to throw her head back in laughter.

Soon after the bottle was finished, their entrees were delivered to the table. Burnt ends with fried okra and mashed potatoes for her and a half rack of ribs with mac and cheese for him. Michonne started on her food while he held the sleeping baby and tried to tackle his ribs with one hand which was nearly impossible, so they traded duties and continued to chat and laugh and eat for a good twenty or thirty minutes before she began to whine in Michonne's arms.

"It's like walking around with a bomb strapped to you," he quipped. "Never quite sure when it's going to go off."

"Why do I have a feeling you'd be more comfortable if that was the case?" she grinned.

"Because I would be," he answered truthfully. "I've had way more training with that."

She began to laugh again, something she had been doing a lot of tonight. She had always found him funny. He wasn't the type of guy to tell jokes, he just had a dry sense of humor, and the way in which he viewed the world around him never failed to amuse her, perhaps because it was so different from the way she saw things.

"Well, you're right, we should get out of here before she goes off because she will. Let me text Maggie and see what their deal is."

As she dug her phone out from under the four diapers and travel pack of wipes stuffed in her purse, he flagged down the waitress for the check. She simply texted the words _Status Check_ and received a quick response.

"Decided to go see a movie," she read aloud. "Will text when we're done." She dropped her phone back into her purse and looked up at Rick. "What the hell?"

"We got played," he said, shaking his head.

"Yeah we did," she huffed out.

"I guess I can drop you off at Rosita's and just hope Clem will be OK with me until they come get her."

She tilted her head to one side and frowned. "I'm not gonna leave you alone with her. We can go back to your place and hang out."

Once the check was handled, he slipped out of the booth, waiting to offer her assistance which she didn't really need, but accepted anyway because, it was one more excuse to feel his skin on hers. He took her hand in his and wasn't quick to drop it as he walked beside her to the door then reached out to hold it open for her. He motioned for the family that was about the enter at the same time to go on through first. Once it was clear, she felt his hand on the small of her back to guide her through.

"Excuse me."

They looked back, thinking they must have dropped something in their exit. It was the little old lady, most likely grandma, that belonged to the family that had just passed, smiling back warmly at him.

"What a beautiful family you have, young man."

Rick glanced down at her, mouth slightly agape. Michonne could feel a hitch in her chest. What they must have looked like: him doting on her and little Clem, her unable to hide how much she was enjoying herself, him still smiling from their wonderful dinner. If it looked half as good as it felt, it must have been a beautiful image.

Rick's lips tightened and he nodded politely. "Thank you, ma'am."

* * *

Michonne finished up in the bathroom then walked out into the hallway, but slowed to a stop just before she entered the living room. She was out of his sightline, but she smiled to herself upon seeing him relaxed on his sofa with lazy Dolly content at his side, shoes kicked aside, feet propped on the coffee table, and little Clem laying on his chest, fascinated by the silly faces and soft sounds he was making for her benefit.

This was a scene from an idyllic home life. One she very well could have had with him. One she may still want in the future. She wasn't sure how that reconciled with the other visions she had for herself, though. Visions of traveling far and wide, of late nights and weekends writing journal articles and papers, and of long rewarding days working with adolescents in her counseling practice. If she wasn't sure what exactly she wanted for herself, how could she invite someone into her life. Even the most seemingly perfect man.

She shut her eyes and looked away, needing a moment to collect herself before she joined them. When she opened her eyes, they landed on the kitchen table and a thick stack of papers sitting in the middle, a reminder of the unfinished business in his life.

"Is this it?" she asked, pointing at the file. The bold print _FBI_ on the cover page should have been enough to answer that.

"That's it," he said popping up from the couch. The sudden movement made Clem begin to fuss. "You can check it out if you want to," he said, instinctively rocking the babies in his arms as he joined her, "in fact, I wouldn't mind if you did. You're good at stuff like this."

She met his eyes and smiled then reached out to...she didn't know what exactly she was planning to do, so she smoothed her hand over Clem's back instead to help quiet her.

"I'd love to." She broke his gaze and picked up the file and sauntered over to the entertainment center where it seemed safer in the moment. "Maybe some music will help?"

"Sure."

She opened the door and flipped through the same tired CD's as Clem's fussing turned into full out crying behind her. Staying up to date on music had clearly fallen by the wayside since she'd left him. Under the cases, she found two blank CD's, their titles scribbled with black Sharpie.

"_Denise's Mix #1?_" she read out loud before flipping to the next one "...or _#2_?" She turned to him, grinning. "What is this?"

"Something she gave me a long time ago," he managed with a small laugh as he tried upped his efforts to restore the chill Clem they had enjoyed all evening.

"Is it good?"

He shook his head and made a face. "Not my thing."

"Well, I need to see for myself," she decided, turning to put one in the player.

"Just _not_ _#2_," he cautioned. "It'll make the baby rage."

Her eyes widened with interest, tempting her to swipe it and take a listen to it later, but she headed his warning and put _#1_ in. She instantly recognized the opening chords of _I Will Remember You_, then skipped to the next song which was Tracy Chapman's _Baby Can I Hold You Tonight,_ and then the next which was _Foolish Games_. By this point, she could clearly see the trend. This was a break-up mix, and an expertly curated one at that.

"This is _so_ Denise," she laughed to herself. "Takes me back."

"Makes me wanna take a nap," Rick groused.

She threw a dirty look over her shoulder then skipped to the next song.

_Once my lover, now my friend_

_What a cruel thing to pretend_

_What a cunning way to condescend_

_Once my lover, and now my friend_

Fiona Apple. _Shadowboxer._ One of her favorites, and more achingly relevant now than ever. So cruel indeed.

* * *

Rick swayed along to the song as he watched Michonne from behind. Her head tilted up slightly, long locs cascading across her bare back onto her soft green dress. This song sounded vaguely familiar to him, something she'd listen to while studying or at least similar to the music she liked. She turned and narrowed her eyes on him, grinning as she closed the space between them.

"She likes dancing with you."

He looked down at the Clem, eyes shut and head burrowed into his chest. He hadn't even noticed that she had gone quiet as he was too focused on the woman in front of him. The woman he wanted to be close to again.

"Join us?" he asked.

Her smile fell and he was sure he had gone too far, but he couldn't help it. The unfiltered truth just came out. She looked down at his application, considering it for one of the longest moments of his life before she bent down and placed it on his coffee table then walked toward him, eyes down, never meeting his. He shifted Clem to one side and opened his free arm to her.

_Oh, your gaze is dangerous_

_And you fill your space so sweet_

_If I let you get too close_

_You'll set your spell on me_

Her cheek settled on his chest and her arm slipped under his and snaked up his back setting his skin ablaze. He clenched his eyes and let his head fall back, praying that she wouldn't dare to meet his eyes because if she did, he wasn't sure he could keep from kissing her. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to fight it anymore. Would he ever find this with anyone else?

"We make a good team," she murmured quietly against his chest. He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination or if there was a slight wistfulness in her voice. Maybe he was just projecting. He let his chin rest atop her head and smiled sadly.

"We really do. If all else fails, maybe we could go into business together."

He felt her shake with laughter in his arms. "Maybe."

_So I'm a shadowboxer, baby_

_I wanna be ready for what you do_

_And I've been swinging around_

_At nothing I don't know_

_When you're going to make your move_

"Is it just me," he started quietly, "or did you find yourself wondering if this is what it could have been like?"

She went still in his arms, and he was certain he really had said too much this time.

"It wasn't just you," she whispered finally. "...still could be, you know, once you settle down someday...with someone."

Her words sunk in and settled like a lead weight in the bottom of his stomach.

She was right, though, too much of his future was still too uncertain at this time to even begin to cast those future memories, even if there was still only one person he could see there.


End file.
